Willpower
by LostAndLonging
Summary: The events of Battle for Skandia but with one vital difference: Will does not tell Halt about what really happened when he was a slave. Together, Evanlyn and Will decide to keep the warmweed addiction a secret, fearing that revealing it could get Will expelled from the Ranger Corps. However, Halt is not as fooled as they think...
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Will," Evanlyn said one day as they were sitting together in the old hunting cabin.

Will looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, hands idly gliding over the small hunting bow in his lap. "What is it?"

She hesitated, unsure on how to phrase this. If she says something the wrong way, Will might very well take offense or shut her out, and that was the last thing they needed. "I was wondering...assuming that we ever even get back to Araluen, that is..." she saw Will's face take on more of an edge and hurried on before he could interrupt, "how much are you planning on telling Halt and the other Rangers about our time here?"

Will looked at her uncertainly, apparently not knowing where she was going with this. "Everything, I guess. There's no way I could lie to Halt." She pursed her lips, hesitated. Will, seeing this, asked, "What's wrong? You're acting weird."

"It's just...it might be in your better interests not to tell them all the details." Although Rangers, from her knowledge of them, would probably not care about the fact that Will had been a slave, knowing that Will was a drug addict might change matters. The Ranger Corps held themselves to- well, perhaps not a standard of honor, exactly, if the rumors of forged documents and stolen treasures were to be believed, but at least a higher standard than the general rabble. Definitely, a different standard than the rest of the world. Even as a princess, the full code and conduct of the Rangers had never been explained, and to be honest, she wasn't actually sure if her father even knew it.

Will tilted his head, a little confused. The once guileless look in his eyes was now replaced by weariness, sadness, and, more and more frequently, shame. She had no idea how much he remembered of his time in Skandia, but either way, it wasn't good. "What do you mean?"

"Even with my rank," she winced at the remembrance of who she was, of her responsibilities, "I wasn't privy to the secrets of the Ranger Corps. But...I'm not sure how well they'd take your story. Your, erm," she waved a hand awkwardly, "stint with warmweed."

For another moment, Will stared at her, brain still slow from the effects of the drug, even weeks later. Then, finally, something clicked. "You think they'll expel me?"

The sheer horror on the boy's face wrenched at her heart a little. She made sure her voice was as gentle as possible when she responded, "From what I've seen of the Rangers, they aren't a sentimental or forgiving lot. Halt might not care, but what about the commander, Crowley? What about the other Rangers? We have no idea how they'd react to being told one of their own..."

"But..." Will tried weakly, "But it wasn't my fault." He paused. "Was it?"

His eyes were so uncertain, so unsure about his own involvement and fault at being deceived and drugged, it hurt to look at them. "No, of course not," she assured him vehemently, "but will the Rangers have the same point of view? They might well decide that," she picked her words carefully, "you're not..." she broke off awkwardly, unable to find a way of phrasing it that wouldn't sound accusing or demeaning.

Will's shoulders slumped. "I guess you're right," he murmured, so quietly she barely heard. "But I can't keep it from Halt."

"Will," she said softly, hating that she had to do this, "if you tell Halt, he'll tell Crowley and the rest of them. You can tell everyone about being a slave, but you cannot mention the warmweed."

"Very well." His head bowed, Will voiced his resignation. Standing up, he placed the now-unstrung bow against the wall and walked over to the door. "I'm going to sit outside for a bit, Evanlyn. Catch some fresh air."

* * *

Will had never known deeper despair.

He was exhausted, weakened, unarmed (since there's no way he was calling the poor excuse of a bow in his arms a weapon), alone, without a plan or backup, facing six armed men. The effects of the warmweed still clawed at him, clouded his mind, chilled and dulled his senses, made his hands shake around his bow. In the small clearing several meters away, Evanlyn sat, helpless, as the man's curved sword began its slow descent.

Helplessness overwhelmed him. Anything Halt had once taught him had flown clear out of his head; what little he remembered was useless with a puny bow and a bunch of sticks for arrows. But, even as a cloud of shame and defeat began to descend, Will forced himself to standing. Evanlyn deserved better than a worthless excuse for a Ranger's apprentice, but at the moment, he was the best he had to offer.

He took a deep breath and drew back the bow. Hands shaking, he sighted, aiming for the exposed wrist of the swordsman. Hesitating far too long, he released the arrow with a twang, watching as it flew across the clearing. Then, cursing himself for waiting too long, he knocked another arrow to the string, aimed, and let fly. The second one barely glanced the man's sleeve, and Will fought the wave of hopelessness the sight caused him.

 _Worthless,_ his mind whispered. _If Halt were here..._

But that was just the thing. Halt wasn't here.

The third arrow was a miss. The fourth, as well.

He'd just given up, only halfheartedly drawing his dagger to face the oncoming men, when a familiar, deep thrum split the air behind him. With a resounding thunk, the black arrow buried itself into the nearest man to Will. Another thunk and the next one went down, too. The third man turned and ran.

Cautiously, not daring yet to hope it was who he thought it was, he turned around.

Halt.

A wild rush of emotion surged through him, but he didn't allow himself to think about it. Even though two of the men had already galloped off, a third swiftly joining them, the one who'd originally attacked Evanlyn was still there. And even though she'd managed to retrieve a saber, a princess was not taught swordsmanship. She would be killed in seconds. With a dim flicker of horror, he realized another thing: she was still tied to the tree.

Entirely forgetting about greeting Halt or running towards him, he motioned wildly in Evanlyn's direction and yelled something he hoped gave away the amount of danger she was in. But Halt's view of the girl was blocked by the trees, and he knew the Ranger wouldn't be able to change position fast enough.

Then hope came in the form of a tall, well-built figure wearing chain mail and a white surcoat with an image of an oakleaf on it. Something seemed vaguely familiar about him, but Will's memories had been hazy since the warmweed incident. He'd tried his hardest to remember anything past Skandia, but nothing had come to him- and worse, even what came before that was difficult to recall.

 _In all honesty,_ he thought bitterly as the young man engaged Evanlyn's would-be murderer, _I wouldn't be surprised if the drug had permanently scarred my mind._ After all, there was a reason drugs were highly frowned upon in Araluen- and not just because of the inevitable addiction. No, although Will had never had much experience with them, he'd heard rumors about specific drugs destroying brain cells and worse. No wonder the Rangers didn't like drugs.

Of course, he'd never actually heard that they didn't, but since Evanlyn said so...and it fit. He wouldn't want to take back a worthless druggie like himself, either. Everything he'd done since being taken by the Skandians only threw shame onto the name of the Rangers.

Tearing himself from his thoughts, Will dully noticed that the young man was rapidly gaining the upper hand of the exchange with strokes that were so swift as to be completely bewildering. The other man lunged clumsily with his curved blade; the younger man deflected it easily, throwing the other off balance, wide open to the retaliatory backhanded cut already on its-

"Don't kill him!" came Halt's voice from behind Will, just in time. The young man twisted his wrist so the flat of the blade slammed into the man's head, knocking him unconscious instantly. "We want a prisoner," Halt finished mildly.

Any thoughts of self-doubt, of shame, flew right out of Will's head, and he ran, uncaring, straight into the Ranger's arms. He slammed into Halt with a force that made the other stagger backwards and threw his arms around his master. And not just his master, but his mentor, his teacher, his friend. And as he babbled incoherently, inwardly cursing the drug as his speech slurred, he found himself crying, sobbing, into Halt's chest.

Halt patted his shoulder gently and Will finally looked up, surprised when he saw a single tear glistening on Halt's own cheek. "Halt," he started slowly, "I..." he paused, thinking it better not to mention the tear. He'd never seen Halt cry before, and all of a sudden he found himself wondering how he'd ever thought his teacher was grim and emotionless. Certainly, Halt wasn't prone to excessive bouts of emotion, but he cared in his own way, and cared deeply.

"Are you all right?" Will heard a voice behind him ask. It was too far away and was pointed the wrong direction to be aimed at him, but he reluctantly disentangled himself from Halt and turned around to see who the familiar man next to Evanlyn was.

To his shame, he couldn't recall the name- couldn't recall it until Evanlyn repeated Will's earlier actions with Halt and threw her arms around the man, exclaiming, "Oh, Horace! Thank God you're here!"

Horace, he thought. That's right- his fellow ward, his friend. The shame returned, stronger, deeper. How could he not have recognized Horace?

Will felt the distinct sense he was being watched, and knew it was Halt scrutinizing him. He must've thought there was something wrong with Will's probably blank, unknowing stare at Horace, or perhaps he was just making sure Will wasn't injured. You never knew with Halt.

As Horace and Evanlyn finally pulled apart- Will carefully smothering a flicker of jealousy- Halt stepped forward, furtively brushing away the tear, and called, "If you're quite finished, we should get out of here. There's no telling when the Temujai will return with reinforcements."

The two young people gave a start. Horace sheepishly retrieved his sword from the ground where he'd put it, wiping it off and sheathing it. "Where are we going?" he asked. Will felt a bit of relief that, for once, he wasn't the one asking all the questions. At least now, Halt would have to get mad at both of them.

"I want to get some distance between us and this place. If the Temujai return or if their army starts marching, we're in for a rather unpleasant situation." He smiled grimly. "Let's retrace our steps and head back across the border. We should be able to find a good camping site somewhere around there."

Halt was, as usual, correct in that assessment. At about midday they found a hilltop with a fairly large depression that'd both allow them shelter and a good vantage point and decided to camp there while he thought up their next move. As soon as they set up camp, however, Horace casually mentioned how they hadn't eaten since yesterday, and Evanlyn instantly picked up the plea. Will, not really all that hungry but not wanting to draw attention to himself (or worse, draw the suspicion of Halt), joined in.

Grudgingly, Halt started a fire and began to cook a stew. While he was doing so, Will drew Evanlyn off the side, out of earshot of both Horace and the Ranger. "They're probably going to want to know our story," he whispered so softly that even he could barely hear himself. "It's the perfect opportunity to hear it with minimal distraction. Have you thought of anything?"

Evanlyn gave him a weird look. "All we have to do is leave out the part about being a yard slave and..." she glanced cautiously around, unwilling to reveal the reason for Will's state even with the other two several meters away.

Will shook his head a fraction, in case Halt was watching. "That will leave far too many holes. It doesn't explain why I don't remember anything about Skandia. If they ask me something, I won't know, and it'll get suspicious if you're the one doing all the talking."

Biting her lip, Evanlyn conceded the point. Will was right. They needed a plausible story. "We'll keep in the part about you being a slave. That's something that can't be taken out. The rest, I guess I'll have to fill you in on as many details as possible." Although she'd told Will the events of Skandia in their days in the cabin, he couldn't remember actually living through them. Because of that, it was possible that Will, knowing all that information only secondhand, could easily forget something and contradict Evanlyn's story with his made-up details. And although Horace might not realize it, Halt most certainly would.

Talking as quietly as possible, she filled him in on as much as she could- the freezing temperatures, the drudgery of the yard slaves, Erak and Slagor (for the warmweed had even begun to infringe on his memories before he came to Skandia), then as best she could, told him all she knew about how he got addicted to warmweed. Although that wasn't necessary to fool Halt- since that was the exact thing they were hoping not to ever tell him- she felt she owed him that much.

Before she'd completely finished with her retelling of their escape, Halt called them over for dinner. Carefully reining in his urge to look guilty and startle, he and Evanlyn walked over and sat side by side, Will with Halt on his left and Evanlyn with Horace on her right.

"What were you doing over there?" Halt asked. "I'm sure you've developed a certain fondness for each other in the past months, but-"

"No!" Will exploded, cheeks stained red with embarrassment, "nothing like that, Halt! Honest!"

"I was just thanking him for his bravery earlier," Evanlyn said, but her face looked a little pink as well. "It was very courageous of him to try and save me with what little weaponry he had at his disposal."

"Yes, I saw that," Halt said, and Will went cold, then hot again with shame. Had Halt also seen his hesitation, his trembling hands, his shots that had flown wide? "He's gotten a bit slow, but nothing a few weeks of practice won't remedy."

"Even with that little bow, those were great shots, Will!" Horace said, eager to try and make the apprentice feel better. Will managed a smile, but it felt forced and fake and the humiliation he felt at how out of shape he'd gotten made Halt's words feel harsher than they otherwise would've.

"Only one of them actually hit anything, Horace," Will reminded him quietly, taking up his bowl of stew. He was famished- what little game he and Evanlyn had managed to scare up had been far too little for Will to be able to rebuild muscle and fat off of, and he ate the whole thing in what felt like seconds.

Covertly, Evanlyn nudged him. _Don't eat too quickly,_ her eyes seemed to say, so Will pretended the dregs of his bowl were really far more than they were, taking his time with the last few drops.

"Seconds already?" Halt inquired after Evanlyn finished her bowl a minute or so later, holding it out. "You finished that faster than Horace, and some days he seems more like a huge stomach on legs than anything else."

"Me, too, please," Will added, careful not to seem too eager as he gave the empty dish to Halt. Damn, the strain of putting on a show was already getting to him- Will was as honest as they come, and the thought of having to lie to his mentor- and for _years-_ was not one that sat well with him. But he could see no other choice.

A few seconds later, Horace held out his bowl as well. With a sigh, Halt filled all three, muttering something under his breath that sounded like _youngsters._

"So," Evanlyn started after she'd finished her second bowl, "What have you two been up to this past year?"

* * *

"You really mean Horace is some kind of hero in Gallica?"

To Will's surprise, Halt was nodding his head emphatically. "A regular figure of respect."

Evanlyn turned to Horace and leaned forward, fingertips grazing over his own. "I can believe it. Did you see the way he took care of that Temujai soldier who was trying to kill me?" Her eyes were alight with warmth- a warmth, Will noticed with a pang of jealousy he desperately tried to suppress, that she'd almost never directed at him. If she had indeed ever done so.

Then Halt turned to Will. "We've told you our story," he said. A deep feeling of dread began to curdle in Will as the Ranger continued, "I want to hear yours, now."

Thankfully, Evanlyn kept her eyes from locking onto Will's. That could easily have given away that something strange was going on between the two of them. Instead, she just took a deep breath and began, starting with the tale of their lengthy voyage to Skandia. She glossed over anything that had been particularly dangerous or that she sensed Will might not want to be told, much to Will's eternal gratitude, spending some time on Slagor and Will's impressive knife throw at the keg.

He felt he should look up from where he was sitting, gaze fixed on his hands in his lap, but the guilt and shame was weighing heavily on him and it took Halt laying a hand on his shoulder for the boy to finally look up and lock eyes with the Ranger. Halt gave him a nod, and despite Will's current mindset, he couldn't help but feel a warm sense of approval and accomplishment settle in his gut.

 _Of course,_ he reminded himself, that was before the warmweed. _I doubt I'd even be able to do that anymore._

"Then," Evanlyn was saying, "we arrived in Hallasholm. Erak decided not to sell us off as slaves, instead making us work in the capital itself. I got stuck with kitchen duty, but Will..." she hesitated. Anxiety thrummed in Will's veins as he wondered if she would really lie to them. "Will got assigned as a yard slave."

"What's that mean?" Horace interjected. "You made it sound like it's a very bad thing."

Will only barely managed to keep his face from showing any emotion, then, realizing that Halt might think his lack of expression weird, adopted a pensive look. At least, he hoped it was a pensive look. He'd never been the best actor.

"House slaves, at least, always have the warmth of the hall," Evanlyn said slowly, "we also get a little more food and, although the work is still extremely tiring, it's not nearly as physically strenuous. We also get a warm room to sleep in at night. Yard slaves, on the other hand..."

Feeling he should speak up around this point, he started hesitantly, "we work in near freezing conditions." He heaved a humorless chuckle, remembering what Evanlyn had said. "Actually, scratch that. Just plain freezing. While there are older house slaves-" he paused, hoping he was remembering what Evanlyn told him correctly- "I never once saw a yard slave older than thirty. We just don't live that long."

Halt's expression was grim. "How did you escape?"

Will said nothing, waiting for Evanlyn to take the lead again. She did, with an, "it was Erak who helped us. He realized that Will-" she hesitated for the slightest instant- "was being worn down by the conditions in the yard, and he knew Will would be dead very soon if he didn't stop it." She continued on with her, vastly edited, version of events, and by the end, everyone was silent. Even when you took out the warmweed and glossed over the worst parts, it was still a dark tale.

Finally, Halt looked at Will again. There was such a sadness and guilt in there that, for once, Will felt grateful they hadn't told him about it. The very last thing he wanted to do was hurt someone, especially Halt. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said softly. It was hard to meet the Ranger's eyes, but Will forced himself to do it.

Behind him, a warm presence made Will instinctively relax. Tug. In terms of who he'd missed the most, Will could easily say it was Halt, but Tug was also an undeniable part of him. He loved the shaggy horse in the way only a Ranger could- perhaps even more than a Ranger usually did. He twisted around, reaching out one hand to stroke Tug's ears and scratch the spot between them the way the little horse enjoyed.

Tug snuffled softly, but something in his brown eyes seemed accusing, worried even. Ranger horses always seemed strangely human, and Tug was no exception. Will didn't doubt that Tug knew there was something wrong with Will. That word- _wrong-_ hurt to think, but it was true. Even thinking objectively and not self-depreciatingly, Will was, quite honestly, a mess. He had memory problems, nightmares, tremors, anxiety attacks, and basically fit the criteria for anorexia, even if the starvation had not been by Will's consent.

A prickling sensation came over Will and he realized Halt was watching him. Again. In the year since they'd seen each other last, Will had forgotten how much Halt watched him. Now that he thought about it- assuming he could even trust his mind anymore, which he wasn't sure he could- he had felt Halt's eyes on him a large part of the day, no matter if they were training or not. Even if they were on a mission, Halt was watching Will. Not that that was odd, but Will had forgotten how unnerving it felt at first to be so conscious of your every move.

Even though he hadn't minded that back in the calm, peaceful forests around Castle Redmont, a year can change a person quite a bit. Now, he found that he hated the feeling of being looked at- hated having to second guess every move in case Halt would get suspicious. He was enough of a wreck just trying to function properly, let alone keep up a perfect facade of normality, as though he'd never been a drug addict or been worked practically into the grave.

"Do you think you could persuade that horse of yours to stay with the other horses for a minute or two?" Halt said. His tone was severe but even Will's slow brain figured out it was feigned within seconds. "Otherwise he'll wind up believing that he's one of us."

"He's been driving Halt crazy since we first found your tracks," Horace put in. "He must have picked up your scent and known it was you we were following, although Halt didn't realize it."

Halt raised an eyebrow. To someone who didn't know him, it probably would've looked menacing. "Halt didn't realize it?" he repeated slowly. "And I suppose you did?"

Horace just shrugged, not taking the bait. "I'm just a warrior. I'm not supposed to be a thinker. I leave that to you Rangers."

All of a sudden, Will saw his vision blur. He wasn't a thinker, not anymore. His brain felt like a foreign entity to him, like he couldn't control it. Much of the time, especially at night, he found he couldn't. And, worse, Will wasn't a warrior anymore, either. He was nothing. And he was most definitely not fit to be a Ranger.

If Halt noticed Will's expression, he said nothing about that, instead going on to reply, "I must admit it had me puzzled. I've never seen a Ranger horse behave like that. Even when I ordered him to calm down and be silent, I could tell there was something on his mind. When you first stepped out of the trees to shoot, I thought he was going to take off after you."

So Halt had seen everything. He felt disgust, contempt for himself, begin to settle in. But, he knew, it wouldn't do to let the others see it- even Evanlyn didn't need to see that. She'd seen enough of his weakness already. She'd seen him at his lowest, and he had no right to bother her with that anymore. So he forced a smile and looked at his three companions, and for a moment, he even fooled himself into thinking it was real.

* * *

"Will." It was Evanlyn's soft voice from beside him. On the huge black steed Horace had taken from Deparnieux, she towered above Will- not that she wasn't already taller than he. Regrettably, even Halt was a half-inch taller than Will, and Halt was, by the standards of everyone, Araluen, Skandian, or otherwise, very short. Not that Will would ever tell him that, of course.

"Yes?"

"How are you?" If it had been anyone else, Will would've given her a bright grin and made a joke about being enslaved. But it was Evanlyn. She was the only person who knew his secret. And although he didn't want to burden her, he sensed that if he didn't answer, their argument would get more heated and attract the attention of others- more specifically, Halt.

"Well," he tried, "one good thing about not sleeping for two days is that you don't have any chance to have nightmares."

Evanlyn gave him a sympathetic look; she'd started getting them, too, a few weeks ago. Although hers weren't nearly as bad as Will's. "And what about..." she flicked an eyebrow up. The motion reminded him of Halt, and the familiar stab of guilt hit his chest. He really did hate lying to Halt, but like Evanlyn said, there was no other way. He wouldn't risk being kicked out of the only place he'd ever felt like he belonged in. He wouldn't risk Halt, the person whose opinion Will cared about most, finding out and becoming ashamed that an apprentice of his was stupid enough, weak enough, to go through all the things Will had gone through.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. Then he realized he said it too quickly, and she was giving him a skeptical look. "Really, Evanlyn. And besides, we have bigger things to worry about right now."

With a sigh, she conceded defeat. Will could be very stubborn when he set his mind to it, and with Halt, Erak, and Horace only a few meters away, she couldn't risk arguing with him.

Which, speaking of Erak...

"Will, we haven't told Erak and his crew," she whispered, beginning to panic. From the horror that grew in Will's eyes, she knew he'd caught on to what she was saying.

"We need to tell them," he whispered back, "as soon as possible." He grimaced, and Evanlyn was delighted to see his Ranger mind was beginning to work again as he said, "if one of us goes to ride beside Erak, though, it'll look suspicious. We need a plausible excuse to get close to him, because we can't wait until Hallasholm; who knows what he might say." Then he froze. "Evanlyn...I don't remember Hallasholm."

Not knowing what he was trying to say, she said slowly, "yes, we've gone over that."

He looked at her levelly, trying to suppress his fear. He'd been getting better at hiding his emotions lately, but they still showed at times like this one. "No, what I mean is that Halt and Horace will expect me to know my way around Hallasholm. Erak won't because he knows what I've been through, and the rest of his crew don't care, anyway, but those two..."

She paled considerably. Then a solution came to her. "You worked as a yard slave, right? Well, to my knowledge, you weren't allowed far off property anyway. It'd make sense you didn't know your way around, and besides, we've been away from there for several months. You can claim your knowledge is fuzzy." She bit her lip. "But we'll need to make sure you're not nearby Halt while you relearn the ins and outs of the buildings."

He nodded slowly, face caught up in worry. "Evanlyn, this is impossible!" he exclaimed softly, finally giving full vent to his feelings. "I've never been able to trick him before, not even for a moment. Who's to say he doesn't already know?"

She let out a rather unladylike curse. Will was right. As silent as Halt was, it was entirely possible he'd already figured out their whole ruse, but- no. That wasn't possible. He had no reason to believe Will had taken warmweed, if he even knew the existence of the drug. Sure, he might think Will was acting weird, but he had other things on his mind right now. When she tried to tell that to Will, however, he looked less than convinced.

"We have no idea how much Halt knows, Evanlyn."

"Well, what do you suggest?" she asked, a little acerbically. "Have a nice, open conversation with Erak about your past, right in front of Halt? Look, Will," she looked him the eye pleadingly, "there's still a chance he doesn't know. We need to take that chance. Plus, even if he does figure it out, there's no reason for Horace to know, too, is there? I mean, Horace probably wouldn't care, but-"

"No." Will's gaze was steely. "No one can know."

If they'd been on foot, she would've taken a step back. Never had she heard Will, sweet, kind, cheerful Will who wouldn't lie to save his life, speak to anyone that way. And, she realized with a sinking feeling, she had a bad feeling that that kind, cheerful Will was now a thing of the past. His time in Skandia, remembered or not, had changed him.

"Alright, Will," she said softly. "I'll try to find an opening to talk to Erak. You occupy Halt."

As it turned out, occupying Halt wasn't difficult. A few minutes later, Halt called for a brief stop. Once they dismounted, he drew Will out of earshot of the others to speak to him. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Evanlyn discreetly edging Erak out of the group of his men.

"This fellow Erak," Halt said softly. "What do you make of him?"

Will frowned, hoping Halt would think he was considering the question and not desperately racking his mind for anything he remembered of Erak. Coming from his own memories, it wasn't much- he remembered Skorghijl and the passage to it, but after that it became increasingly harder and harder to remember anything. But from what Evanlyn had told him, he'd been instrumental in their escape. Besides, Erak had a certain rough kindness that Will found hard not to like.

So, taking a deep breath, he looked at Halt and said, "I like him."

Halt nodded. "Yes. So do I, but do you trust him? That's a different matter to liking."

He stiffened. He honestly had no clue. The correct answer, from what Evanlyn had told him and his vague memories, should be yes, but Will no longer trusted his own mind. It was his mind, according to Will, that had gotten him hooked on warmweed. It was his mind that tortured him nightly with nightmares. It was his mind that disabled him with panic attacks- which, thankfully, he hadn't had recently.

But, knowing what he should answer, he opened his mouth and said, "yes."

Halt nodded again, rubbing his chin. "I must say, I agree with you."

"Well, he did help us to escape, you know, Halt," Will pointed out, thinking that was probably the right thing to say, and was relieved when Halt tilted his head in approval.

"I know. That's what I was thinking about."

A little confused, he sent a curious glance at Halt, but the Ranger said nothing more. Having learned to expect that by now, Will said nothing, either, and the two stared off into the forest. It was almost peaceful and Will found himself longing for those days back at Redmont fief where everything had been so uncomplicated and _right._ No Skandians, no death threats, not Temujai and wars and lies.

As they mounted back up again, Evanlyn found her way back to him. "I filled him in," she said in a lowered voice, knowing all too well that Halt was a mere four meters away and possibly watching them. "I didn't have time to tell him why, but he understands and promised not to mention... _it_...and to help make excuses or distract Halt when necessary." She grimaced. "Now that I think about it, asking him to help make excuses was probably a big mistake on my part."

Despite himself, Will couldn't help but smile. It was the first genuine smile he'd made in months, albeit fairly small. "Well, what's done is done."

"And what might that be?"

Fighting his body's instinctive freeze, he turned to look at Halt. Rapidly improvising through the haziness in his brain, he said, "Evanlyn was trying to get Erak to ride a horse again so we could make better time, but he refused." Uncertain as to whether or not Halt's look was skeptical or accepting, he continued, "He told her to, put politely, screw off," and then threw in a grin for good measure.

Surprisingly, it worked. The barest ghost of a smile flitted across Halt's weathered face and Will knew that he'd succeeded. Torn between guilt at lying to his mentor and satisfaction that at least his mind wasn't completely screwed up and could still work, he decided on a blank expression and continued riding.

 _This could work,_ he thought. _I just need to keep this up until we get back home and Halt won't ask again._


	2. Chapter 2

"Here we are," came Erak's loud voice from behind them, "Hallasholm."

 _The city is surprisingly small,_ was Will's first thought. When he remembered how Halt was less than a meter away from him, however, he had to stop himself from gazing at it any longer than any normal escaped slave would.

Hallasholm was a small town, composed of perhaps fifty buildings, all of which were made of wood and all of which had the same roofing of thatch and, if Will was seeing right, grass. In the center, far larger than any of the other houses, sat a building made of the same construction materials but with a pitched roof that made it dominate the rest of the little town.

"Ragnak's hall," Evanlyn murmured into Will's ear. "That was where we worked."

 _Well,_ Will thought, _at least I won't have to worry about navigating around such a small town._ It occurred to him that maybe he would've found Hallasholm almost beautiful if it weren't for all that this place had done to him, remembered or otherwise.

"Well, are you ready?" Erak asked. "It's time to go to Ragnak. Let's pray he takes this news better than that of his son's death, eh?" He and his men laughed a little, but Horace and Halt just looked confused. In a flash, Will realized Evanlyn had forgotten to tell them about the Vallasvow.

Hoping that maybe his knowledge about this would help disguise the fact he couldn't remember Hallasholm, he leaned over to Halt, motioning Horace in. "When the Oberjarl's son died in a skirmish with Araluen, Ragnak swore a Vallasvow against King Duncan's entire line." From the look on Halt's face, he understood exactly what that meant, but Horace's face was just as confused as ever.

"What's a Vallasvow?"

Will didn't know the details, because Evanlyn had never shared them with him. So, he shrugged. "I heard the Skandians mentioning the Vallas, so I think they're their gods. A Vallasvow is a vow for vengeance. Basically, Ragnak won't stop until he's killed every single person from the King's line."

Horace paled considerably. Careful to keep his voice low, he said, "Do they know about...?"

"No. If they did, they would've killed her already," Halt said quietly. "If any Skandian found out, they'd turn her over to the Oberjarl immediately, not wanting to risk the wrath of their leader."

"Why are you sitting around talking, Ranger?" Erak cut in. "Let's go!"

With a roll of his eyes, Halt nudged a heel into Abelard's side and the whole group began their descent down the final hill.

* * *

"Do you really not remember anything?" Evanlyn asked softly. They were now walking, the four Araluens leading their horses by the reins through the streets (paths, more like) of Hallasholm, behind Erak and his men. Will was carefully reining in his urge to look around, knowing he'd already been through here at least once, regardless of whether he could recall said trip or not.

"At first, I couldn't," he said. "Then, little bits and pieces started to come back, none of which were pleasant. But I don't remember enough to get me around here safely, and what little I do remember...I'm not sure I trust it anymore."

"Here we are!" Erak called. Will fought a wince at the sheer volume the Skandian produced. "Ragnak's great hall!"

The four of them stabled their horses in the one stable of Hallasholm, a few hundred meters away. Then, when Erak started getting impatient, they started back towards the building. On the way there they passed by the yard, and for the first time, a memory flashed in Will's mind.

 _Cold. It was cold._

 _There was more, more than that, but it'd stopped mattering to Will. All that mattered was cold, ice, the bite of the wind against his numb face. All that mattered was the nonexistent warmth of the one thing that kept him alive._

 _"Here." It was shoved roughly at Will, but he didn't care, grabbing it greedily from outstretched hands and licking it up. Warmth flooded through him, and his senses dulled._

 _But it only lasted for so long._

 _A few hours later, he was cold again._

 _It was all encompassing, all consuming. Why would they keep it from him? Didn't they know how much he needed it? Warmth trickled onto his face, but it wasn't the warmth he needed. This warmth chilled, freezing onto his face. He wondered what it was, and reached up to touch his face. When he pulled it away, his fingers looked damp._

 _That was strange._

 _Another stab of cold and he was on the ground. Why would they do this? He needed it, he needed it, he needed, needed, need-_

 _Voices faintly pierced his consciousness, and he was consoled, but only slightly, for he recognized the voice- it was the voice of the one who gave him warmth. Eagerly, he turned to face the voice. It was holding his salvation out in one hand. He lunged for it, spilling it on the ground. Horror pierced through the veil of his subconscious, and he frantically bent down, desperately salvaging for it._

 _He put what little bits he'd managed to find into his mouth and closed his eyes._

 _Warm. He was warm again._

He shivered violently, feeling sick. It was one thing to be told about an addiction- it was quite another to have experienced it for himself. And even though that memory would have been only one out of dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of days, that only made things worse. That had been only one day- one day of cold, of utter dependence on a drug. He had gone through months of days full of the same exact thing.

He wanted to throw up.

Through the pounding in his ears, he watched the yard slaves. Even with one glance he could tell which ones were just like he had been- glazed, out of focus eyes, excessive shivering, mechanical movements.

Stiffening, Will realized there was an arm around his shoulder. When he looked to the owner of said arm, it turned out to be Halt. _Oh no._

"It's over now," Halt said softly.

Will fought back tears and a desperate need to tell Halt the truth. Instead, he gave Halt a grin and nodded. "Yes, you're right."

He wanted to get out of Halt's grip but couldn't, because Old Will wouldn't have for the world. Although kind words- or the Ranger's own version of kind words- weren't uncommon anymore, it wasn't normal for Halt to be this touchy-feely, and Old Will would not just shrug Halt's touch off. It wasn't Halt's fault that he had such a damaged, screwed up apprentice in lieu of his once cheery apprentice who had hung on Halt's every word.

As it was, though, that just made Will feel worse. He had changed, changed irrevocably. He would never be the person he once was. The long years stretching out in front of him seemed bleak and dismal with that thought.

Looking up, he realized two things: one, that they were now inside Ragnak's hall, and two, that Halt's arm was still around him. Now _that_ was odd. Will couldn't ever remember a time where Halt's touch had lingered more than a few instants- not counting, of course, when Will had initiated the contact himself. Then, finally, the weight slid off of Will's shoulder and Erak knocked on Ragnak's door.

"Oberjarl, we have urgent news."

Will fought a sigh of relief as Halt's arm returned to his side. Every kind action the Ranger aimed at Will made it harder for the boy to lie to him. Plus, after Evanlyn had told him the reason behind the countless, whitened lines lashed across Will's back, he'd rather decided he didn't want to be touched, both from fear someone would discover the raised indentations and white lines and realize what they were, and because even vague flashes of memory of Hallasholm had given him an aversion to touch.

"Who is it?" came Ragnak's voice.

"Jarl Erak and some people we'd like you to meet."

"Come in, then." Erak opened the door and led the Araluens in. Along with Ragnak, another man was in there, someone Ragnak introduced as Borsa.

"Erak, what is it?" The Oberjarl paused, frowning. "And why did you bring four Araluens in here?"

"We've just come from the mountain outpost," Erak started explaining. "It's been completely wiped out by the Temujai. After a reconnaissance mission, we discovered an army of at least five thousand is marching towards us."

Ragnak didn't give much of an outward indication on how he felt about that, but Borsa paled considerably. "F-five thousand?" he asked, horrified.

"At least. We ran into these four Araluens on the way out there. This one-" Erak motioned to Halt- "is a Ranger, and he has offered to help us defend Hallasholm."

Ragnak's face darkened, but instead of replying to that, he motioned to the other three. "And who are they?"

Erak hesitated. "Well, I don't know who the tall lad is, but these other two are, um, escaped slaves." Knowing he probably needed to butter Ragnak up, he added a hasty, "Oberjarl. And I have sworn to protect them."

The Oberjarl didn't look overly happy about that, but he sighed. "Under normal circumstances, I'd punish them, but we have better things to do with our time. You say this Ranger wants to help us defend Hallasholm? Why? Surely a King's Ranger would have no love for the Skandians."

"I don't," Halt said bluntly, "but at this point in time, it'd be hard, if not impossible, to escape before the Temujai are here. The best thing I can do right now is help defend Hallasholm, at least until they decide it's too much of a risk to keep fighting."

"I see. And how will you help us? One man more against five thousand is not much."

"I will be your strategist. I know enough about Skandians to know that your idea of a plan of attack is simply that: attack. I lived among the Temujai for a few years, and I can safely say their strategies and discipline is far above anything you or your men have."

Erak sent Halt a warning look, but surprisingly enough, Ragnak didn't seem to take offence at Halt's cold analysis. "You think you could somehow defeat an army of over five thousand?"

Halt shook his head. "No. That's impossible. But I know I can make it too expensive for the Temujai to keep fighting, if you let me help." His gaze was harsh, unwavering, as it met the Oberjarl's own. Will was once again struck with the thought that Halt was a Ranger of the sort few others could even contest, if any could. Not for the first time, Will wondered how he had garnered such attention from one so highly skilled. Will would no longer even consider it was because he had the potential to become close to Halt's greatness.

"I see," Ragnak said again. "Well, off with ye." He gave a dismissing gesture to Erak and the Araluens. "I'd like to speak with the Ranger in private before I accept his offer."

Once they were out, Erak took Horace, Will, and Evanlyn on a tour throughout the hall to 'show them around their quarters'. Will, of course, recognized that Erak was simply trying to make sure Will knew his way around. It was an unusual thing for the usually thick-headed Skandian to realize, but perhaps being around Halt and Will was making him start to think more.

"Over here is where the yard slaves sleep." Erak risked a small glance at Will, whose face was carefully blank. Fragments of memories were resurfacing the longer he looked at what had once been his- he hated saying this- his home. He remembered whippings, warmweed, and cold. The Skandians were merciless with their treatments of slaves, and even though only a few seemed to actually derive pleasure from beating the slaves, all seemed to agree that punishing a slave for the slightest infringement was a useful, even necessary, thing.

Then he heard a low groan and a familiar crack that made his heart thud erratically from fear. _It's over,_ he tried to console himself, _Halt would never let them do that to you again._ But wasn't Will trying to avoid Halt as much as he could? What if they recognized Will when Halt wasn't around? He knew well what the punishment was. Although they might not kill him for running away, they'd definitely make him wish they had.

Beside him, Horace stiffened, his eyes following Will's. "Are they..."

"Yes. It's considered good discipline." Erak shook his head as he stared at the helpless slave bound to the whipping post, a sight he'd seen far too many times. "It doesn't make sense to me, disabling slaves to teach them a lesson, but it's a very popular punishment among the overseers."

The young Battleschool cadet slowly turned his gaze to Will, who was very carefully avoiding Horace's eyes. "Will," he said, voice choked, "did they do that to you?"

He turned to his friend and put on his best sad smile. "Not me," he lied, "but I saw a lot of others get hurt. I managed to get the easier tasks that were harder to mess up. Still," he lifted a shoulder, knowing he had to at least reveal a little pain or Horace would get suspicious, "it wasn't easy to watch."

On his other side, Evanlyn was giving him a saddened look. He ignored it and kept walking.

* * *

Over the next few days, Will did little else but train. He'd found in his months in Skandia, his skill had dwindled as to, in his eyes, become practically nonexistent. Instead of the one second intervals Halt had allowed him to have between each shot ("it should be a half-second eventually," he'd said one day, "but that will come with time"), it was more like six seconds, and the aiming period was long enough to be shameful. Not to mention how bad his aim had gotten.

His muscles felt atrophied, and from what little he knew of his time as a slave, he thought it probable that that's what had happened to them. Even though his muscle memory was slowly coming back again, it wasn't enough.

"Remember the golden rule?" Halt asked him. Will had just tried- and mostly failed- to shoot a dozen arrows into targets ranging from 50 to 200 meters. Most of the farther targets hadn't even been hit, and the familiar weight of shame was bearing down on him. Halt was shaking his head slightly, looking disappointed, and Evanlyn and Horace's gazes were burning into his back. Of course they had to be here.

"Practice?" he asked glumly, the word flat and barely a question.

Halt nodded. "Practice," he confirmed as they walked out into the field to collect his arrows. Although Will couldn't be absolutely certain since he'd never really thought about it before, he didn't think Halt used to walk so close to him, or indeed accompany him to get the arrows. Then he dropped a consoling arm around Will's shoulders. "Don't feel too bad about it. Your technique is still good, but you can't expect to spend the winter making snowmen in the mountains and retain your edge."

Will fought not to rip his mentor's arm off of him. "Making snowmen?" he repeated indignantly. "I'll have you know-" he stopped, abruptly. Somehow, he didn't think that saying _I was waist deep in drug addiction and didn't really have the presence of mind to shoot a bow_ was an appropriate thing to say.

"You'll have me know what?" Halt didn't seem all that concerned, but Will knew from experience that appearances were deceiving, especially when it came to the Ranger.

"I'll have you know," he said, a little stiffly, "that there weren't any proper weapons up there, nor were there-" and he stopped again. Halt looked faintly amused and Will realized the older man had been pulling his leg. "You said that on purpose!" he exclaimed, a little annoyed. Somewhere in the midst of their conversation, Halt's arm had come off of Will.

"I did?" Halt asked innocently. "I thought I was just inquiring after the state of my apprentice."

Glaring, Will pulled an arrow out of a target.

* * *

It took what felt like far too long, but Will finally felt like he had returned to much of his former skill. Even though his hands still sometimes shook from the aftereffects of the warmweed, his accuracy and speed were now up to par of at least a second year apprentice, at least to Will.

Halt, watching him, knew he was better than Gilan had been as a third year, but said nothing.

His skill with double knives was another thing altogether. Erak had returned his double-knife scabbard to him the next day after they reached Hallasholm, and a word from Halt had Will reluctantly adding the two blades into his training sessions. He'd always been far better with archery than with knives, but even still, his throws hit the center of the target more often than not.

Horace, one day coming to watch him, offered to spar with him, and Will accepted. Although melee combat was Will's least favorite thing, it was a necessary skill of a Ranger, even an apprentice one. And Horace was an amazing teacher: as a natural swordsman, he understood blades and fighting the way Will understood archery and stealth. And, luckily for Will, teaching someone how to defend themselves with double knives was a whole lot easier than teaching someone how to move unseen.

"Say, Will," Horace said one day as they were taking a break. The two of them were alone in the field, Halt with Erak on a scouting mission to see the Temujai.

"Yes?"

"I keep thinking..." reminded of Halt's usual response to a sentence like that, Will had to bite back the sarcastic retort threatening to come out of his mouth.

"Yes?" He repeated instead.

"You seem...different, lately," the boy said hesitantly. "I know it's because you were enslaved, but I can't help thinking if, maybe you told us about it, we might be able to help?" His voice lifted at the end, turning what could've been a statement into a question.

Will gave him a puzzled smile. "What do you mean? I'm a little tired, yes, but I'm not really all that different from before. I guess it's just the stress of the upcoming war getting to me." _Dammit,_ he thought. _I'm not as good of an actor as I thought. I'm going to need to up my game._

Horace nodded, unconvinced. "Okay. Well, if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you, alright?"

"Alright." Will gave Horace another smile, this one almost genuine. "Thank you, Horace."

* * *

Per Will's request, he'd been roomed with Evanlyn, meaning Horace and Halt had to share a room of their own. Halt had, unsurprisingly, started teasing Will about his 'feelings' for the princess and despite himself, he'd gotten a little embarrassed, defending himself with red cheeks.

Of course, what Halt didn't know was the real reason behind Will choosing Evanlyn over the Ranger. The real reason was that now that they weren't in constant danger and were in the (relative) safety of Hallasholm, Will's nightmares had returned with a vengeance. Although he'd been trained to keep quiet even in his sleep, Evanlyn still told him he woke her up occasionally with his whimpers, soft as they might be. Evanlyn herself had been known to scream on some occasions, and it was only Will's quick thinking that kept the noise from reaching the rest of the huge building's occupants.

Even though he'd never breathe a word of it to Evanlyn, not wanting her to take offense, he couldn't help but think that nightmares were for the weak. As a princess, Evanlyn was weak- despite the fact that she had shown a remarkable resourcefulness and kept him safe for three weeks while he was still addicted to warmweed. Having never heard of any warrior having nightmares, Will assumed that just the act of getting them made him like a pampered royal. He was, really, too inexperienced to know anything else.

In addition to that reason, Will had generally slept shirtless when he'd been with Halt. Although he didn't anymore out of respect for Evanlyn, had he slept with Halt, the Ranger would've expected him to continue his long-held habit. Will didn't particularly feel like explaining exactly what had happened to his back, nor did he want to tell Halt why he'd lied to Horace, in the event that the young cadet had mentioned the slave's whipping to Halt.

So, each night he struggled with nightmares. After a week of sleepless nights, he'd finally given into Erak's suggestion and begun taking a sleeping draught. It reminded him uncomfortably of his former dependence on warmweed, but he saw no other way around it. He couldn't continue on like that and pretend to be normal, not when the entire city could see the huge bags around his eyes. It simply wasn't possible.

Meanwhile, Will had suggested forming a small corps of bowmen. After Halt had given his approval, Will had hastily asked if he could pick the men out himself. Although Halt had been surprised, he'd accepted, and Will had gone to the various different slave quarters and found a hundred men who'd said they could shoot a bow. It had felt like a punch in the gut to see so many of them addicted and mindless, and he thanked God several times that Halt hadn't insisted he tag along.

Now, more than half the day was spent trying to turn his one hundred men into semi-competent archers. It stretched him to the limit having to put on the cheery veneer he'd been known for back at Redmont, but the men responded well to it and he sensed they both respected and liked him. It was certainly a change from Evanlyn's pity and Halt's criticism, and one he quite welcomed.

"We'll break for today," he said in a raised voice. "Tomorrow we'll shoot as one group. So if I've picked any technical faults in your shooting today, practice getting rid of them before the evening meal. Then get a good night's rest." He started to turn away, then turned back, remembering one thing more. "Good work all of you. If you keep this up, we're going to give those Temujai a very nasty surprise."

A growl of pleasure rose from the one hundred men. As they broke off, heading back to their shelters, Will realized it was later than he'd thought. Frowning a little, he went down the field to go retrieve the arrows, pleased when the half-dozen boys who'd been assigned to help began to gather the arrow bins and arrows, putting them under cover in one of the store sheds that fronted the practice field.

Will couldn't help but notice the admiring glances every one of them cast his way as they went about their work. It was a much-needed self esteem boost, especially in his current mental state, and he smiled a little. He wouldn't have been human if he hadn't enjoyed their hero worship.

"You look pleased with yourself." Will spun around to see Horace watching him, and shrugged.

"They're coming along quite well. It's been a good day's work."

Horace nodded. "So I noticed." Then, worried, he added, "Evanlyn hasn't been here with you, has she?"

Instantly a little defensive- the amount of time he and Evanlyn spent together, planning out their ruse and supporting each other through their nightmares, had begun to raise eyebrows everywhere- he asked, "What if she has been?"

The worried look instantly cleared from Horace's face and he realized he'd misinterpreted the reason for his friend's question. "Then she has been here? That's a relief. Where is she now?"

Will frowned. "Just a moment. Why is it a relief? Is something wrong?"

"Then she hasn't been here?" The cadet's face fell.

Will shook his head. "No, she hasn't. I just assumed you were being..." he shook his head again, trying to clear his embarrassment away.

"She's missing and nobody's seen her since midmorning yesterday. I've looked everywhere for her, but there's no sign."

"Missing?" Will repeated, taking a little longer to understand than normal and cursing his slow brain for it. "Missing where?"

Horace looked at him. "If we knew that, she wouldn't be missing, would she?"

Feeling defensive again, he put his hands up. "Alright, fine! Sorry I didn't realize, but I've been a little tied up here trying to get these archers organized." Taking a deep breath, he tried to get himself under control again. "Surely somebody must have seen her last night. Our room servants, for example?"

Horace shook his head miserably. "I've asked them." He continued on with his monologue, something about patrolling, but it slid past Will's panicking brain. He couldn't help but blame himself for her disappearance. Even though there was no logical reason he could think of, he was sure there was something that he did- he just needed to find it. When he finally managed to pull himself out of his self-loathing thoughts, Horace was looking at him expectantly.

Realizing he was supposed to say something, he said, "I haven't seen hide nor hair of her, but it's ridiculous! Hallasholm isn't a big enough place for someone to go missing, and there's nowhere else she could have gone. Let's face it, she can't have simply disappeared." He hesitated, suddenly unsure. "...can she?"

"That's what I keep telling myself," Horace said glumly, "But somehow, it looks as if she has."


	3. Chapter 3

"Bring her forward!" Ragnak's massive voice boomed painfully in the low ceilings of the hall. Evanlyn shrank back instinctively, then recovered as Halt touched her arm and met her eyes with a reassuring smile. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped forward, stopping before Ragnak's raised dais.

She met the Oberjarl's glower with a calm, composed expression. She'd become a very good actor, Will thought. As good as he, if not better. Slagor, standing beside Ragnak, signaled to a pair of attendants by a side door. "Bring in the slave." In contrast to Ragnak's ear-splitting bellow, his vocie was soft and silky. He sounds very pleased with the current turn of events, Will thought with a surge of anger.

The two men Slager had called opened the door and dragged in a protesting, weeping figure. She was a middle-aged woman, her hair graying and her face lined before its time with the strain of unending labor, poor food, and the threat of constant punishment that was the lost of a slave in Hallasholm. They cast her down on the floor in front of Evanlyn, where she crouched there miserably, unwilling to look up.

"Look up, slave," Slagor said in that soft voice. Will found he hated it more every time he heard it. The woman continued sobbing, shaking her head, her eyes still cast down on the floor. Slagor moved quickly, stepping down from the platform and drawing his saxe knife in one smooth movement. He held the razor-sharp blade at her throat, pressing it in with a force that almost broke the skin. "I said, 'look up,'" he repeated.

As she finally looked up, her eyes met Evanlyn's and her sobbing grew louder.

"Shut up," Slagor said. "Shut up that noise and tell the Oberjarl what you told me."

Looking over her again, Will realized with a pang that she'd been beaten, and harshly. From the way she held herself, it was obvious that she was in a lot of pain. Vague, flitting images passed through his mind and new sympathy welled up for her as he remembered similar occurrences happening to him.

"I'm sorry, my lady," she said, voice breaking. The entire hall grew quieter to hear her. "They beat me until I told."

Evanlyn might've been a good actor, but even she couldn't help the involuntary step she took towards the slave. But Slagor's knife swung up and around to confront her and stop her from coming closer, so she stopped.

Beside him, Horace's hand dropped to his sword hilt once more. Knowing how much of a disaster that would be, Will quickly put a hand over it and shook his head when the cadet's surprised gaze fell on him. From what he knew of the Skandians, drawing a weapon in this tense atmosphere would invite war, and even the looming threat of the Temujai wouldn't save them from being killed.

Although Will wasn't certain Halt was going to be able to get them out of this, he figured he should try and give his master some of the trust he'd used to give freely to Halt, back in Araluen. In any case, Will had no idea what to do, nor would he have said anything if he did. Back in Halt's apartment, he'd strictly instructed them not to say anything or do anything until he said so. Will might have been screwed up, but even he wouldn't dream of disobeying his master in a matter of this importance.

Slagor turned back to the woman on the floor. "Tell the Oberjarl," he repeated. When she said nothing, Slagor turned to Ragnak in exasperation. "My head slave overheard her talking to some of the others," he explained. "She's Araluen originally and she said she recognized this girl here-" he jerked a thumb in Evanlyn's direction -"as the Princess Cassandra, Duncan's daughter."

Ragnak's eyes narrowed and he turned slightly to inspect Evanlyn, whose chin went up and back straightened under his gaze. "She does have something of the look of Duncan about her," he said suspiciously.

"No! No! I was mistaken!" the slave burst out. "Now that I see her close, I realize I was wrong, Lord Slagor. I was mistaken!"

'Lord'? Will thought in disgust. What an entitled bastard.

"You called her 'my lady,'" Slagor reminded her.

"It was mistake, that was all. A mistake. Now I see her properly, I can tell it's not her," she insisted.

Slagor regarded her with a pained expression that would've looked real if Will hadn't known how despicable of a person the sea captain really was. "She's lying, Oberjarl. I'll have my men beat the truth out of her." He signalled the two men again and one of them came forward, uncoiling a short, thick whip as he came. The woman cringed away from him, and despite himself, so did Will.

"No! Please, my lord, please!" her voice, shrill with fear, penetrated deep into Will and he suddenly felt nauseous. He'd never begged while being whipped- never- but the desperation and the fear resonated with how he'd felt every time he'd been whipped.

The man raised the whip.

"Leave her alone!" Evanlyn cried, her composed facade crumbling. She seemed to suddenly become so much smaller, a defeated expression on her face. "All right," she said quietly. "There's no need to torture her further. I'm Cassandra."

The silence in the room seemed almost like a physical force, but nowhere was it stronger than inside Will's head. Now that her identity was revealed, he couldn't see any possible way that Halt could save her. No, he knew, now he would be forced to watch the girl who'd become a friend and a sister and more get killed. In front of him. With her dead, his only confidant would be gone. All of a sudden, he felt so lonely that he shivered. If Evanlyn died, he'd be all alone, with no one to turn to for help.

Around him, Will dimly registered the word Vallasvow from several different sources.

"Silence!" Ragnak roared. He rose and moved forward to confront Evanlyn, glaring down at her. "You are Duncan's daughter?"

She hesitated. Will could sense the fear rising within her. Be strong, Evanlyn, he pleaded. He didn't know how, but he had to try and save her. Life simply wouldn't be worth living without her- was hardly worth living even now.

"I am King Duncan's daughter. Cassandra, Princess of Araluen."

"Then you are my enemy," Ragnak replied. "And I've sworn that you should die."

Erak stepped forward. "And I've sworn that she will be safe here, Oberjarl," he said. "I gave my word when I asked the Ranger to help us." Will felt a sudden deep depth of gratitude for the jarl.

"I am Oberjarl," Ragnak said angrily. "My vow is of greater importance."

Erak folded his arms across his chest. "Not to me it isn't," he responded, and Will was surprised to hear a chorus of agreement from the crowd.

"Erak cannot defy you like this! You are Oberjarl!" Slagor interjected. Will was seriously tempted to use his saxe knife to throw at him- and this time, there wouldn't be a wooden keg in the way. "Have him imprisoned! He is defying your vow to the Vallas!"

"Shut up, Slagor," Erak told him in an ominously calm voice. Then he readdressed himself to Ragnak. "I didn't ask you to take your death vow, Ragnak. But if you want to carry it out, I'm afraid you'll have to go through me to do it."

Ragnak stepped down from his podium and walked closer to where Erak stood. Will noticed how alike they were in terms of height and physical proportions- nearly identical. "Erak, did you know? Did you know who she was when you brought her here?"

Erak shook his head.

"Of course he knew!" Slagor cried, then stopped suddenly as the point of Erak's dagger appeared under his nose.

"I'll allow that once," Erak told him. "Say it again and you're a dead man."

Wordlessly, Slagor backed away from the bigger man, careful to put a safe distance between himself and the knife point. Erak sheathed the dagger and turned back to face Ragnak. "I didn't know," he said. "Otherwise I would never have brought her here, knowing of your vow. But the fact remains, I vouched for her safety and my word is all-important to me, as is yours to you."

"Damn and blast it, Erak!" Ragnak shouted. The crowd held in a shocked breath, even though Ragnak's outbursts couldn't have been that uncommon. "The Temujai are only three or four days' march from here! We can't afford to be fighting amongst ourselves now!"

"It would be a shame if you had to face the Temujai with at least one, and possibly both, of your best leaders dead," Halt put in mildly. Will had no idea how making Ragnak angrier was going to help matters, but he'd already sworn silence to the Ranger; now he just had to hope his master knew what he was doing.

"Shut up, Ranger!" Ragnak snarled. "I'm of half a mind to believe that this is all your doing! No good ever came of dealing with your kind!"

Halt shrugged, looking completely unimpressed. "Be that as it may, it occurs to me that there might be a solution to your problem, at least for the time being."

Ragnak looked at the Ranger with narrowed eyes. Will could tell he was suspicious and most likely expecting Halt to trick him. In all honesty, Will was expecting Halt to trick him. "What are you talking about? My vow is binding upon me."

Halt nodded. "I understand that, but is there any time factor involved?"

It took Will longer than it should have, but in a flash, he understood.

"Time factor?" Ragnak asked, apparently even slower than Will. The boy wondered with a hint of mirth if Ragnak had also had a stint on warmweed, to slow his brain functions that much. "How do you mean?"

"If we accept that you plan to do your best to kill Evanlyn, knowing that Erak will try to stop you when you do- not to mention the fact that if he doesn't, I most certainly will- have you vowed that you'll do it at any particular time?"

The puzzled expression on the Oberjarl's face grew more intense. "No. I didn't specify any time. I just made the vow," he said finally. Halt nodded several times.

"Good. So, as far as these Vallas are concerned, they don't care whether you try to fulfill your vow today or if you choose to wait until, say, after we've sent the Temujai packing?"

Understanding was finally beginning to dawn on Ragnak's face. It was about time, too, in Will's opinion. "That's right," he said slowly. "As long as the intent is there, the Vallas will be satisfied."

"No!" Slagor's voice was shrill now; Will decided he liked that tone even less. "Can't you see, Oberjarl, he's trying to trick you? He has something in mind. The girl must die and she must die now! Otherwise your sworn word is worthless!"

Will drew in a breath. Slagor had gone too far, he knew, and as Ragnak turned his furious gaze to the ship captain, everyone else in the room realized it, too.

"Slagor," he said dangerously, "I would advise you to get rid of this reckless habit of telling your peers that they are liars."

"Of course, Oberjarl," Slagor attempted to mend quickly, "I didn't mean-"

"My first concern is for the safety of Skandia. With these Temujai on our doorstep, Erak and I cannot afford to be fighting. If he'll agree to postpone our differences until after we've settled with them, then I will too."

Erak nodded agreement instantly. "It sounds like a good compromise to me."

But Will could see that Ragnak wasn't finished yet. He still looked suspicious, and as his gaze fell on Halt, the boy realized he was suspicious of the Ranger.

"I can't help wondering what's in it for you, Ranger. All you've done is win a postponement."

Halt inclined his head. "True, but a lot can happen in the next few days. You might be killed in the battle. Or Erak. Or me. Or all three of us. Besides that, my immediate priority is the same as yours: to see these Temujai driven back. After all, if they win here, it won't be long before they're invading Araluen as well. I have a sworn duty to try to prevent that." He smiled grimly. "That's another of those vows that we all seem to rush around taking. Damned nuisances, aren't they?"

Apparently either unimpressed or not understanding Halt's sarcasm, Ragnak turned and stepped back up the dais, settling into his massive council chair. "We're agreed then," he said. "We'll settle the Temujai question first, then we'll come back to this problem."

With shared nods, Erak and Halt turned to leave. Halt took Evanlyn's arm and began to guide her from the Great Hall, followed by Will, Horace, and Erak. Will's brow furrowed, wondering if Halt had forgotten Slagor's betrayal, when Halt turned back to Ragnak. "Of course," he said mildly, "there is one more question that I'd like to hear Slagor answer."

Everyone in the room instantly glanced at Slagor. Then, when all eyes were on him, Halt continued, "perhaps he could tell us what his ships are doing at Fallkork Island?"

* * *

"Can you, Ranger?" Slagor spat, saying the last word as if it were an insult. "Can you show some kind of proof?"

Will saw Halt's hesitation. He didn't answer, and Will knew that he had to speak up now. Screw his vow of silence to Halt. His brain might be slower than he'd like, but he could still think up a solution well enough. He pushed through the crowd to stand beside Halt. "There is a way."

The entire hall fell silent. Every gaze turned to the small apprentice, standing between Halt and Erak.

"How?" Ragnak asked simply.

"Well, Slagor's ships at this island, taken on their own, may be no proof of his intention to sell out to the Temujai," he said carefully, thinking through each word. When he got nervous, he tended to slur his speech, and that was something he definitely didn't want to do now. "But if Erak took Wolfwind to this Sand Creek Bay, and if they happened to find, say, a hundred and fifty Temujai warriors waiting there to embark...it's a fair indication that someone is planning to betray you, isn't it?"

Ragnak frowned as he thought that through. To Will's left, Erak muttered, "good thinking, boy."

"That's true," Ragnak said finally. "It shows there's treachery been planned. But who's to say Slagor's involved?"

Will was the one to hesitate this time, unable to think of an answer. This time, Halt was the one to reply. "Oberjarl, there's a simple way to find out. Let Erak take not one ship, but three. After all, that's the number the Temujai are expecting to see. Then he can speak with the leader of any Temujai who might happen to be there and tell them that Slagor has been detained and has sent him in his place. If the Temujai leader responds with words along the lines of 'who the devil is Slagor?' then our friend here is as innocent as he claims to be."

He paused. Will saw Ragnak was nodding. "On the other hand," he continued deliberately, "if the name Slagor seems familiar to the enemy, then there is all the proof you need."

"This is ridiculous!" Slagor, predictably, burst out. "I swear to you, Oberjarl, that I am not traitor to Skandia! This is a plot cooked up by these Araluens. And somehow they seem to have tricked Erak into believing it."

"If you're innocent," Ragnak said heavily, "then you have nothing to fear from all this, do you?"

Will noticed perspiration began to break out on the captain's forehead.

"I don't see any reason why-"

"I do!" Ragnak snapped, interrupting Slagor. "Erak, take three ships to Sand Creek Bay immediately and do as the Ranger suggests. Once you've established whether or not Slagor is involved in this plot, get back here and report. As for you," he turned to Slagor, "don't try to go anyhwere. I want you where I can see you until Erak returns. Ulfak, see to it!" Ulfak, presumably one of his senior jarls, nodded and moved to stand beside Slagor.

"One thing, Oberjarl," Erak said, making the Skandian leader turn to him again. "Once I've established that Slagor is involved, is it all right if we reduce the Temujai numbers a little? That'll be a few less we have to fight here, at least."

"Good idea," Ragnak said, "but don't take any risks. I need to know the traitor's identity and you can't tell me that if the Temujai kill you."

An idea had slowly been forming in Will's head throughout that last part of the discussion, and before he could stop himself, he blurted, "Why no' go 'head withe plan they're 'specting?" His cheeks flamed as laughter lit up the halls. Ever since the warmweed, he'd found it harder to talk clearly, and now he was paying for that. Clearing his throat, he tried again, "why not go ahead with the plan they're expecting?"

Now, the Skandian leader looked at him as if he were mad. "Are you out of your mind? Are you suggesting that Erak actually brings the Temujai back here as prisoners? We'd have to subdue them and guard them and that would take men away from our own battle line."

Will carefully refrained from saying that, if left to their own devices, those men would be a hundred and fifty more people that could possibly endanger that battle line, instead turning to Erak. "Not back here. Couldn't you find some pretext to make them get off the ships at this Fallkork island- then just leave them there?"

Another silence. This time, Erak started laughing, but not the kind of laugh that made Will feel embarrassed. "Oh, what a prize idea!" he said, grinning fondly at Will. "If we take these horsemen through the Vulture Narrows, I'm sure we can have them begging to get ashore for a few hours. The seas there are terrible at this time of year- guaranteed to make any inexperienced sailors seasick!"

Ragnak rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I take it these Temujai are unused to sailing?"

If they decided they had to defeat Skandia in order to even get ships, Will thought, it's probably a sign that they don't sail that much.

Halt nodded. If he had any sarcastic remarks, he didn't say them. "Totally, Oberjarl."

Ragnak turned from Halt to Will. "This boy of yours shows a certain talent for the sort of devious thinking we expect from you Rangers." Will decided that the flaming pink on his cheeks was, in fact, from the heat of the hall. Not from anything else.

Halt dropped a hand lightly on Will's shoulder and said, with a completely straight face, "We're very proud of him, Oberjarl. We think he'll go far."

Warmth bloomed in his chest for the first time he could remember in a very long time. It didn't matter that Halt's tone was completely matter-of-fact or that his face belied his words. Will had never, never, heard such a compliment from Halt in his life. Even if part of it was just putting on a show for Ragnak, Will refused to believe that it was a lie. Halt's touch, warm on his shoulder, was too real to be a lie. If Halt weren't telling the truth, he wouldn't make it that personal.

Unbidden, a deep feeling of guilt overwhelmed him, for although Halt might not be lying, Will most certainly was. Even though he'd hesitate to say that Halt cared for him deeply, he knew that there was something between them- something that had driven Halt to make his promise to Will as he'd stood on that beach last year. And the knowledge that he was hurting someone whom he cared for and who seemed to care for him back- that knowledge hurt.

"Get your ships ready and go," Ragnak was saying dismissively. "Then dump these Temujai on Fallkork Island and get back here." He obviously seemed to think the matter was finished, but Slagor didn't share that sentiment and voiced one last, desperate objection.

"Oberjarl! These are the people who accuse me! They're all in it together! You can't send them to verify their own charges!"

Ragnak hesitated. "Fair point. Borsa, you go with them as an independent witness." Then, turning his gaze to Slagor, he concluded, "and as for you, you'd better hope there are no Temujai at Sand Creek Bay."

* * *

"Position two...shoot!"

"Shields!" Horace bellowed. Beside each archer, a foot soldier stepped forward with a rectangular wooden shield held on his left arm, positioned to cover both himself and the archer as he reloaded. It had been Horace's idea, and a damn good one at that. Will was unwilling to lose any of his hundred archers to the Temujai return fire they were sure to mount once they encountered opposition.

He glanced around, making sure the archer were ready for the next shot, then turned back to the practice field, searching for the next target to appear.

There! As the team of men behind him hauled on a set of ropes, another flat board swung up out of the grass. But he had nearly missed the movement waiting to see if the archers were ready.

Inwardly cursing his slowed brain functions, he fought a twinge of panic. Things were moving too fast. He wasn't ready- didn't even feel whole anymore.

"Clear! Half right! Position three...shoot!"

"Shields!" Horace called again.

"Come on, come on," Will muttered, shifting restlessly as the men selected new arrows and nocked them to the string. For a Ranger who'd been trained to nock, aim, and release within seconds, the waiting period was interminably slow. The archers, sensing his urgency, began to hurry, but the extra haste made for clumsiness. Will kept in an exasperated sigh as three of them dropped the arrows and many others fumbled around like beginners.

Frustrated, Will realized he'd have to go with the men who were ready. He swung his gaze back to the target, but the men on the ropes were hauling it in so that it slid toward them on its sled-like runners, matching the speed of an enemy advance. The range had closed too quickly for him to make an instant assessment. In the time that he'd been watching his men, he'd lost his concentration and his sense of the battlefield.

"Stand down!" he called. "Everyone take a break."

He angrily flopped down to the ground, sure that a normal person wouldn't have had a problem with this- a normal person would've been able to keep going between the two groups. He had to face it: he was disabled, perhaps permanently. The thought was just as humiliating as it had been the first time it had come to him, the day after he'd woken up from the warmweed.

"What's the trouble?" Horace asked. Will wanted to snap at him, but he didn't want to lose one of his only friends- plus, snapping was not a thing Old Will did, and Will tried very hard to emulate Old Will as much as possible.

He shrugged, forcing a little bit of a smile. He wanted to act defeated, but again- not an Old Will thing. "Can't keep track of the targets and the men at the same time. Guess I've lost my touch. You'll have to watch the men and tell me when they're ready."

Horace frowned. "First, now that I think about it, watching both sides would be really difficult. I don't think it's you losing your touch. And secondly, I could...but on the day, I think I'm going to be a little busy shielding you from any return shots. I really need to keep my eye on the enemy, too. Unless you want to be turned into a pincushion."

Will felt a vague sense of amusement at the last sentence before it was swallowed up with anger- at himself, of course, but he wasn't going to say that. "Well, someone's going to have to do it! We haven't even begun to practice against the Kaijin and the whole thing's falling apart!" Then he realized that was, most certainly, not a thing Old Will would say, and wished he could take it back.

"I could do it," Evanlyn interjected. Will turned to her, surprised. He'd completely forgotten she was there. "I could do it," she repeated. "I could keep an eye on the archers and call when they're ready."

"But that'll put you in the battle line!" Horace objected instantly. "It'll be dangerous!"

Will said nothing, considering. Yes, it'd be dangerous, but Will needed someone to help him. There was, arguably, no one he trusted more than Evanlyn- in some ways, he trusted her more than even Halt, considering how he had told Evanlyn much more than he was ever planning on telling Halt.

"The archers aren't actually in the front line," Evanlyn was saying, "You'll be behind it, and protected by a trench and an earth mound. You could build me a kind of a dugout at the end, beneath your command position. I'd be safe from arrows there; after all, I don't need to see the enemy, just our men."

"But what if the Temujai break through our line?" Horace said. "You'll be right in the middle of it, then!"

Evanlyn shrugged. "If the Temujai break through, it won't matter where I am. We'll all be dead. Besides, if everyone else is taking a risk, why shouldn't I?"

Horace looked like there was something he very much wanted to say, but refrained. Instead, sighing, he turned to Will. "What do you think, Will?" from his tone, he obviously expected the apprentice Ranger to agree with him, and was a little surprised when Will took a while to respond.

"I think," he said slowly, "she may be right. Let's try it."

 **A/N:** just so you guys know, this fic is basically the same as Battle for Skandia- at first. By changing one axiom in the entire story, most things won't be affected at first, but it's a ripple effect: slowly, more and more stuff will change as the consequences of Will's actions spread. First, Will's mental health will be affected, then Evanlyn's. After that, people around them will slowly be changed and relationships will begin to twist- either to become more intimate, or more damaged, depending on the other person and how close Will or Evanlyn were to them in the first place. Then, it will begin to affect their actions, which could very well change the entire outcome of the story. This story is an AU in the sense that it will begin to differ more and more from canon, not that the starting place was completely alternate from canon in the first place.

Basically, I one day sat down and wondered...what if I gave Will a more realistic reaction to his enslavement? Because let's face it. Will was sixteen at the time, and he was practically frozen to death, drugged, starved, and, although it isn't shown, perhaps even beaten. I don't care how brave of a kid Will is; even a full-grown adult would have difficulty recovering from that extreme trauma. And yet, somehow, in the books, Will was completely fine within a week. As I have struggled with mental illness myself, I can safely tell you that recovering from that in a week is impossible. It takes months to recover from trauma or mental illness, if not years.

So, I'll close this extremely long author's note with a disclaimer. Although I have paraphrased large sections of the Battle for Skandia, and have in some parts quoted it, I intend no offence by it and hopefully won't be charged with violating copyright laws, since I know I'll never make any profit from it. If anyone's actually read this far, thank you lol and I hope to post the next chapter soon!


	4. Chapter 4

"Ready," Evanlyn said calmly.

"Clear!" That was Horace.

"Left left! Position one...shoot!" That was Will. The volley was ragged and Will knew that was his fault. He'd called the order to shoot too quickly and some of the men hadn't reached full draw. Through his anger at himself, he heard Horace call for shields again and saw the arrow strikes on the target- as well as the ones that didn't hit.

But now another danger reared its head. Another, smaller target swung out from the target they had just engaged. It was supposed to represent a Kaijin. With his former skill returned, Will drew and loosed and saw his arrow slam into the target, just as Evanlyn called "ready" once more.

"Left! Position three..." he waited, cursing their slowness in his head, then added a correction. "Down a half..." He waited again, then called, "Shoot!"

"Shields!" Horace bellowed, and the pattern began to repeat. But now Will, exhausted from the hours of shooting, waved a hand.

"Stand down," he said. Horace repeated the order in a louder voice. The archers and shield bearers dropped gratefully to the ground to rest. Horace grinned at Will.

"Not bad. I make it twenty out of twenty-five of those targets peppered pretty solidly. And you hit every one of the Kaijin."

"True," Will said a little glumly, then quickly hyped up his tone to something a little cheerier, "but they weren't shooting back."

In all honesty, he was fairly pleased. He'd hit the targets squarely and his men had, as well- mostly, at any rate. His estimations had, so far, proved excellent, and it was definitely a nice feeling. He grinned at Horace and Evanlyn, the expression for once not feeling all that forced. They smiled back.

"Nice work, everyone. Let's take a break for half an hour."

Behind Will, a familiar voice spoke. "Take a break for the rest of the day. You've done enough for the moment."

Dread and excitement stirred inside Will- the same two feelings that now warred within him every time he found himself near Halt. Dread of having to potentially lie to him again- and wasn't every fake smile and forced laugh a lie?- and excitement, because, well, it was Halt. Invariably, there was always something exciting happening around Halt.

"Hello, Halt," he said neutrally, then swiftly forced himself to swing back into Old Will when Halt's expression seemed to become concerned. "What happened? Were the Temujai there? Did you manage to fool them?"

As he asked the questions, he felt a spark of his old curiosity begin to resurface. _Good,_ he thought with a little sigh. _At least I'm not completely broken._

Halt's expression, however, seemed to darken the closer he got and he motioned at Evanlyn. "Why have you got Evanlyn involved in this, Will?"

Will hesitated. But he needed her, and he couldn't back down now. "Because I need her, Halt. I need someone to keep track of the men, to let me know when they're ready. Without that, the system won't work."

"Couldn't someone else do that?" Will saw the displeasure in his mentor's eyes and fought a wince.

"I can't think of anyone else I can trust. I want someone who won't panic, someone who'll keep her head."

Halt looked at him. "How do you know Evanlyn won't panic?"

Again, he hesitated. His memories were still a little hazy here and there (and of course in some places entirely nonexistent). But, slowly, he said, "Because she didn't in Celtica- at the bridge."

Halt's gaze passed from him to Horace to Evanlyn and back again. "All right, then," he said. Will managed to muster up a grin. "But don't look so happy about it. I'm the one who'll have to explain to her father if she's shot."

Knowing Old Will would've asked the next question, he said, "Now what about the Temujai? Did you find them at Sand Creek Bay?"

Beside Will, Evanlyn's face clouded, anxiety surfacing. "They were there," Halt said quickly, looking at her, "and they made it clear that they were expecting to see Slagor." he nodded at the princess. "It puts a different complexion on things as far as you're concerned, Princess."

"Ragnak still has his vow," she said dully.

Halt nodded. "True, but at least he's agreed not to act on it until after we've driven off the Temujai."

Evanlyn still looked uncertain, and it tore at Will's heart. He felt a want to protect her, to at least attempt to pay back everything she'd given to him, and he swore that if Ragnak returned to make good on his vow, Will would die before he let her get hurt.

"It's just postponing things," she said quietly.

"Problems postponed have a habit of solving themselves, more likely than not," Halt told her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

Evanlyn smiled, but it wasn't much of a smile. "If you say so. But, Halt, don't address me as Princess, if you would. No point in reminding Ragnak about me at every opportunity."

The Ranger nodded again. "I stand corrected." He drew her off the the side slightly and whispered something in her ear that Will couldn't hear, but by the smile returning to her face, Will knew it must've been something good. She looked from him over to- Will turned around to see- Erak, then kissed Halt's cheek. Will expected Halt to react with either embarrassment or annoyance, but instead he just smiled and said something else to her.

With a last hopeful grin, she turned away from him and started to her quarters, before turning back around and heading to Will. "Are we taking the rest of the day off?" she asked, but her eyes were asking something different. They said, _will you be alright if I leave now?_ Evanlyn had made sure to be around Will as much as possible, fearing something would set him off. In all honesty, Will found it a tad smothering, even though he knew she only did it out of good intentions.

He nodded. "Yes. Halt wants us to, so can't really go against him, can we?" He leveled a grin at his mentor, who glared at him, then looked back at Evanlyn. _Yes, I'll be fine,_ he told her silently. _Go rest. You deserve it._

For the third time, Will asked, "What about the Temujai? How did you convince them to go ashore on Fallkork Island?"

This time, it was Erak who answered with a great, booming laugh. "We would have had to fight to stop them!" he told them. "They were scrambling over each other to get back on solid land." The Skandians joined his laughter. "I managed to find a spot where we had the wind from astern, a steep head sea on our starboard quarter, and the tide race through the narrows, all at the same time. A few hours of that and our fierce horse soldiers were like little lambs- sick little lambs."

"They weren't the only ones," Halt said, looking vaguely sick at the thought. Will felt a surge of pity for his mentor, remembering the awful storm he'd gone through and the seasickness that had accompanied him through it. "I've been through some rough seas in my time, but I've never felt anything like the plunging and leaping you had us doing."

Erak laughed again. "Your master here went nearly the same shade of green as his cloak," he told Will, who grinned at the thought- not even a forced grin, either- a real, genuine one.

Halt raised an eyebrow in a way that said Erak was going to pay dearly for his comment. "At least I finally found a use for that damned helmet," he said. The smile disappeared from Erak's lips.

"Yes," he said reluctantly, "I'm not sure what I'm going to tell Gordoff about that. He made me promise I'd look after that helmet. It's his favorite- a real family heirloom."

"Well, it certainly has a lived-in feel to it now," Halt told him. With faint amusement, Will noted the hint of malicious pleasure in his eye. Then the Ranger turned to Will, nodding at the group of archers who were standing by. "You seem to have this group working pretty well."

He felt absurdly pleased at such a small compliment- although, from Halt, even a small compliment was the equivalent of a full-on speech. He spared a thought to wonder why Halt seemed to be treating him so well- from reassuring him his archery technique was still good, to telling Ragnak he was proud of Will, and now to this, Halt was being so nice that Will wondered if there was an ulterior motive.

 _What if he's trying to flatter me to cover up the fact that he already knows?_ Will thought, suddenly panicked. Making sure none of that showed on his face, he gave a nod to his mentor. "Oh, we're not doing too badly."

"Better than that, from what I saw," Halt told him, then continued, "I meant what I said, Will. Give them the rest of the day off. Yourself, too; you've earned a break. And unless I miss my guess, we're going to need all the rest we can get in the next few days."

* * *

Will did not rest.

How could he? He was all too aware of the fact that, a few days from now, they were going to be fighting for their lives. And Will was still not in peak condition. _And may never be_ , he thought glumly. Although he was aware that he was making progress- his mind was processing quicker, his speech was becoming easier, and memories were beginning to come back to him- it was not nearly fast enough.

So, instead of walking back to his cold, depressing room and sitting there, alone or with Evanlyn, he pretended to walk back to Hallasholm, then diverted and snuck back around, easily blending in with the grass as he moved. Once he was back at the training grounds, he stood there, eyes flicking back and forth a few times so as to ensure there was no one there.

He was still suspicious, but soon relaxed. After all, it was hardly like Halt had been expecting him to disobey his orders, right? Besides, Halt had better things to do with his time than tend to his screwed-up apprentice. He had a war to plan.

Stringing his bow, he reached for an arrow. In less than five seconds, the first one was already flying towards a target. In intervals varying between two to five seconds, twenty-three more followed suit. Once he was done, he examined each target critically from a distance and frowned. Since he'd needed twenty-four things to shoot at, the last twelve had been very far out indeed. Two of them, he'd missed- entirely.

His jaw clenched. Already, he was fighting against a completely illogical bout of self-loathing. He'd never actually practiced any lengths greater than 200 meters- Halt had told him they'd gradually increase the distance, but he wanted Will to have precise aim on closer distances first. There was no reason for him to be so angry at himself when he'd never even practiced.

But, as of late, Will's mind hadn't been the most logical of things. Even as he was walking to collect his arrows, his brain taunted him, murmuring things about Halt regretting choosing him as an apprentice and about how Will would never make it to a full-fledged Ranger- and that was assuming Halt and the other Rangers never found out about his addiction. So lost was he in self-loathing that he almost didn't even hear it.

He stiffened, hand halfway through pulling out an arrow. That sound had not belonged there. But the sound didn't happen again, and for a moment he wondered if it had just been a figment of imagination. Turning a slow circle, he scanned the area, eyes narrowing when he came up with nothing. Either there was no one there...or Halt had been there the whole time, watching everything Will had done, from the two misses to the most likely obvious self-hatred that had accompanied it. Although missing a target was definitely an Old Will trait, the self-hatred was not.

"Halt," he called, "I know you're there."

Silence. He groaned. "Fine, be that way. But I do know you're here, now, so there's really no point in hiding."

Nothing happened. For a long moment he wondered if he'd been talking to the wind or a squirrel; then a flash of movement out of his peripheral vision caught his eye and he turned, beholding Halt. The Ranger wasn't attempting to hide anymore, but to the untrained eye, he still would've been very hard to see. To Will, however, he was as plain as day.

"I was wondering how long it'd take you to realize I was watching you," Halt commented, going over to a nearby target and taking an arrow out. "Took a little longer than I was expecting."

There it was. That deep thrum of shame mixed with anger and self-loathing. Will shrugged, not answering. He'd learned a while ago that if Halt criticized something he did, there were no excuses he could make for it.

A pause, then... "I thought I told you to take a break for the rest of the day."

Will pulled another arrow out of the target. A bullseye, he noted with no small amount of satisfaction. "There's a war coming, Halt. I can't just sit on my thumbs and do nothing."

"I wasn't asking you to do nothing. I just asked you to take a break." When Will didn't respond, Halt said, gentler, "you need the rest. I want you in top condition for when the Temujai get here. The littlest mistake, and you could die."

"I've gotten a lot of rest," Will said guardedly, not wanting to tell Halt that he'd been basically asleep for the greater part of a year. "I want to do something, and I hate how much my accuracy has fallen."

"I'll admit, you were far below par your first day back," Halt said, "but you've regained your former skill quickly enough. In fact, I'd say that you're even starting to surpass it a tad." Halt gave Will an encouraging look. "If you give it a few years, you'll maybe even reach-"

Will cut him off, and they said at the same time, "-mediocrity." He grinned, knowing that's what Old Will would've done. "Gee, I wonder where I've heard that one from before?"

Halt raised an eyebrow and glared. "Apprentices," he muttered under his breath, "always think they're so smart."

Will decided not to answer that one and bent down, retrieving one of the arrows that had missed the target entirely. The pair fell into a comfortable silence as they worked, each by an unspoken understanding collecting a dozen arrows. When Will had gotten his last one, he turned around to notice Halt waiting for him, twelve arrows in his hands. The boy approached him cautiously, not sure if Halt was going to let him continue practicing or not.

The Ranger sighed, apparently reading Will's expression and knowing what he meant. "All right, fine. You can practice some more if that's really what you want to do." He handed the arrows to Will, shaking his head. "All those days back in Redmont fief you complained about having to train. Now I tell you not to do it, and what do you do?"

"Halt," Will said, wanting to clear things up, "those were house chores. Not training."

"Doing the chores is part of your training," Halt insisted stubbornly. Will felt the corner of his mouth tug up despite himself as they reached the spot he'd been shooting from and drew his bow.

"Whatever you say, Halt."

* * *

Will flopped down on his bed with a colossal sigh. Evanlyn, sitting on the bed opposite his, looked over, concerned. "What's wrong, Will?" the boy didn't respond so she asked again, "Will?"

He mumbled something in his pillow, then propped himself up on his elbows and turned towards her. "I'm scared, Evanlyn," he finally said. Old Will wouldn't have said that, but he's not Old Will anymore and Evanlyn's the only one that knows that. "I almost had a panic attack during training today and...I..." he looked away, unable to meet his friend's eyes. "What if...what if I get one on the battlefield?"

"You have Horace to protect you," Evanlyn reminded him. "There's no way he's letting those Temujai kill you."

"But he can't call out orders and positions," Will said miserably. "If I'm busy panicking, I can't keep the archers shooting." He finally turned, looking her square in the face. "Evanlyn...I'm broken. I'm not fit to be a Ranger's apprentice."

"Don't say that, Will!" she protested vehemently. "You've had an awful year. Of course you'd be feeling the effects of that! You're only human."

"Halt wouldn't be this screwed up," Will said quietly.

"Stop holding yourself up to Halt. You're not even full-grown, and Halt's, well, Halt. I'm sure he's had his share of tough times, too, and had to learn to deal with them just like you."

"But a Ranger-"

"Will." She reached across the space between their beds and took his hand. "Rangers are human, too. They might not show it, but I'm sure they've gone through bad stuff, and they just learned to live with it. You need to do that, too." He didn't answer, so she sighed. "Stop blaming yourself for everything! None of this was your fault. Nothing that has happened to you was because you were weak."

Will's eyes were disbelieving, but she saw uncertainty there, too, and knew she was starting to get through to him. Not for the first time, she wished they could tell Halt about this. Will and Halt seemed to have a relationship similar to what she had with her own father, and she had a feeling that, out of everyone, Halt was the one who'd be able to get through to him the most. But constantly telling herself that Halt would kick Will out of the Ranger Corps had had its toll, and now she was as reluctant as Will to tell the grizzled Ranger what had really transpired in Skandia.

There came a knock on the door. Evanlyn stiffened and drew back from Will, tilting her head towards the door in an _is it okay if they come in?_ sort of way. Will nodded, so she called, "Come in."

The door opened without a sound and Evanlyn knew it was Halt before he even stepped into the room. The timing of his visit seemed almost uncanny- as if he'd been listening in the whole time and waited until they seemed done with their conversation before he made his presence known. The thought made her shiver, and she silently resolved to tell Erak not to answer any question the Ranger might ask about Will and hers year there.

"What is it, Halt?" Will asked. "Is it the Temujai? Are they here early? Does Ragnak want to see us? Does-"

Halt cut off Will's rapid flow of questions with a wave of his hand. For a second, the sight made Evanlyn smile, but then she looked at Will. Despite the eager curiosity in his tone, his eyes didn't match- they were tired and sad. _He's become such a good liar,_ she thought, and the thought hurt. _He's no longer that impulsive, honest to a fault boy I used to know._

"I need to talk to you, Will," he said quietly. His eyes flicked to Evanlyn. "Alone."

Dread surged through him. He made sure not to look at Evanlyn for help, even as his heartbeat started pounding faster and faster- surely Halt could hear it? All he could think was _he knows, he knows, he knows._ Will had no clue how he'd found out- Will had thought he was acting normal, and Evanlyn had made Erak vow he'd not tell Halt.

 _But,_ he realized with a sinking feeling, _Erak isn't the only one who knows what happened._

Evanlyn nodded and stood up, but Halt stopped her. "No, you don't have to leave. We'll go to my room. Horace is out training, so he won't bother us." Will just stared at the ground, petrified. His mind felt like it was one of the paddles he'd turned in ice-water all those weeks ago- slow, useless, and desperately trying to function properly.

"Will, come on," Halt said, an edge of impatience in his voice. Will nodded obediently and got up, trailing behind Halt as they exited the room. His heart was racing faster than he'd ever remembered it racing before and he dimly realized he was on the verge of a panic attack. Desperately, he tried to calm down, grateful the noisy Skandians around them were helping to mask his loud, ragged breaths.

"Well, this is nice," Halt said, a few minutes into their walk. "For once, you're not asking any questions."

Will said nothing. The panic was growing stronger, but he was confused- why didn't Halt seem angry? If anything, he himself seemed uneasy, almost...scared. Like he was the one with bad news. _Maybe something bad happened back in Araluen and he's just now telling me?_ he wondered. Even though the thought shouldn't have made him happy, it did. He felt horrible for saying that, but as long as Halt didn't know, he could take anything.

Barring, of course, someone's death.

"Halt?" he asked hesitantly, ignoring the older man's exasperated sigh. "Is this about Alyss? Don't tell me she's..."

"No," Halt said quickly. "No, this isn't about her. She's not dead." He hesitated. "Well, she could be. I haven't been at Redmont fief for almost a year." Will stopped, stone-still. Halt looked back and stopped as well. "Relax," he said kindly. "I'm sure she's perfectly fine."

Now, the thought that Halt was trying to tell Will something about what the Ranger had done was beginning to grow stronger. _As long as it's not about him finding out, I can take it,_ he told himself, panic slowly abating. Ahead of him, Halt opened the door to his room and gestured Will in. Will carefully sat on the bed he assumed was Horace's, not wanting to take his master's bed.

There was a long silence. Will was just about to ask what Halt wanted to talk to him about when the Ranger heaved a sigh. "I should've told you this a long time ago," he said slowly. "I was going to tell you when we were first reunited, but I didn't want to say anything in front of the Prin- in front of Evanlyn."

The last bit of worry faded from Will's chest. If he'd wanted to tell Will when they first met back up again, there's no way this could be about Skandia. He nodded, encouraging Halt to continue.

"When I made that promise to you...I tried to follow through immediately. If I'd had my way, I would've gone after you the moment I could. But the King and Crowley wouldn't let me. They wanted me to hunt down Foldar, one of Morgorath's men, and I wasted valuable time on hunting down impersonations of him. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore." He took a deep breath. "I need you to realize that I tried to appeal to King Duncan. He refused to see me. Then I tried to appeal to Crowley, but he refused me as well."

A bad feeling was beginning to develop in the pit of Will's stomach.

Halt smiled, but it was a bitter one. "Now, as Gilan will tell you, I've never been good at holding my drink. I got drunk one night in a tavern and ended up saying some rather unsavory things about the King. There were a lot of witnesses, and one of them got the Watch." he shrugged diffidently. "They arrested me for treason against the King and I was sentenced with banishment..."

"Halt," Will whispered, horrified. "Halt, you didn't."

"...for one year," the Ranger finished, and a hint of a real, genuine smile lifted his lips.

"Treason is serious!" Will exploded, angry that his mentor had risked that much to save him. "You could've been killed!"

Again, the Ranger shrugged, seeming not to care. "The King rather likes me, if I say so myself. I didn't think he'd kill me."

Will said nothing for a while, trying to process everything Halt had said. He didn't believe for a second that Halt had simply gotten drunk. Although Halt definitely liked a good bit of red wine in his stew, he didn't make a habit of drinking unless it was a special occasion. And he'd never, ever go to a tavern, unless it was to gather information- Will distinctly remembered Halt muttering under his breath about 'filthy, dirty taverns' more than once. But more than that, Halt wouldn't ever be so careless as to get drunk and then badmouth the King.

No, Halt had intentionally done that, because...because he'd made Will a promise. He'd willingly gone through with that, knowing he could be killed, or at the very least, banished.

Impulsively, he threw his arms around his master. "Halt...thank you," he mumbled into the rough material of the Ranger's cloak.

"No need to thank me, Will. I simply did what needed to be done to fulfill my promise to you." There was another long pause. Will slowly drew back. Then Halt continued, "I just wanted to be honest with you. I don't want us...to have any secrets between each other." The words were carefully pointed, and Will forced himself to relax, giving Halt a cheery smile.

"All right. I won't." He stood up and made a show of stretching and yawning. "Anyway, I think I'll be going back to my room. I'm getting kinda tired. Night, Halt."

"Good night, Will."

Will exited the room, closing the door behind him with the barest of clicks. Still sitting on his bed, the Ranger stared at the door, eyes dark. "Well, I tried," he muttered.

 **A/N:** and here you have the first effects of the ripple. I'll warn you that there won't be many changes in the battle, since I didn't think Will's actions would directly affect that. I'm only changing things that make sense with him not telling Halt what happened to him, and I don't think that would change the outcome of the battle in any way.


	5. Chapter 5

Will couldn't ever remember being more terrified.

Not even when he'd taken down the Kalkara- not even when he'd burned that bridge in Celtica. All that was like nothing compared to the thousands upon thousands of Temujai advancing towards him.

His own force seemed infinitesimal in the face of the enemy, and he wondered how he'd ever thought they even had a chance. Surely Halt hadn't realized just how many six thousand troops were?

Below him, the archers seemed to feel much the same as he did. Several of them reached for the arrow bins in front of them, instinctively feeling the need to arm themselves.

"Stay down!" Will called, wishing, as ever, that his voice wouldn't crack. Halt didn't want him revealing the presence of the archers until the Skandians had made several of their usual probing attacks.

The line of archers now turned to look at their young commander. Will grinned at them, so used to forcing a grin that it had become second nature in spite of his terror. Feigning a casualness he certainly didn't feel, he leaned his bow against the breastworks in front of him, signifying that there would be no action required of them for some time yet.

"Nice work," Horace said quietly beside him. "How can you stay so calm?"

"It helps if you're terrified," Will replied, thinking that _I'm simply used to lying to everyone around me_ was probably not an appropriate answer. And it was true- somehow, terror helped calm him down. Horace himself seemed to be the epitome of calm, totally unworried and seemingly unconcerned.

"I know what you mean," the apprentice replied, dispelling that idea. "I nearly dropped my sword when they rode around the bend there."

The Temujai began to engage with the Skandians, and as the minutes went on, Will could see their slow retreat, just like Halt had said. From his place out of the thick of the battle, he could see how feigned it was- there was no fear on any of the enemies' faces, nor did they seem to be in a particular hurry to get out of there. But for the Skandians, Will knew, caught in the midst of battle, they wouldn't realize it.

A deep, penetrating note sounded in the battlefield, and the Skandians instantly retreated, forming a shield wall for the incoming horsemen. Taken by surprise, the Temujai faltered, and that was when the second signal was given and a hundred more Skandians rushed out from the forests, surrounding them. Will gave a nod. It was working well.

"Next time," Will said, "it'll be our turn."

* * *

"What the hell do you think you're up to?" Horace yelled at him.

Will grimaced and blocked a thrust from another Tem'uj. "I'm watching your back."

"Well, next time let me know," his friend responded, grunting as he side-stepped a lance and hammered the hilt of his sword into its surprised owner's skull. "I nearly cut you in half just then!"

"There won't be a next time," Will said a little peevishly. "I'm not enjoying myself here." Unable to use his preferred method of attack, he was stuck with his double knives, using the double-knife defense Gilan had taught him more than a year ago. He'd never been particularly skilled at it, which was made worse by the fact that the Tem'uj he was fighting was pretty good with his sword.

"When I tell you, drop to your knees."

"Fine," Will replied grimly. Then, unable to resist, he added, "I may even do it before you give the word." He parried another few attacks, then heard Horace's _now!_ Sensing what Horace was going to do, he hastily dropped to the ground. He was just in time, for Horace's sword flashed over him, stabbing the Tem'uj solidly in the gut.

"You all right?"

Will nodded, slowly picking himself back up. "Very impressive. Where did you learn that?"

"Made it up just now," his friend responded, grinning. With swift, calculated movements, he took down two more lancers. Horace's sheer skill at the sword was something that Will admired, knowing that even with years of training, he'd never be as good as Horace. He didn't really mind, though- he much preferred his arrows to Horace's sword or the Skandian's axes. It was still impressive, however.

"Is that arm troubling you?" Horace asked. Surprised, Will looked down. He hadn't even noticed the wound.

"I didn't even feel it," he said.

Horace smiled grimly. "You will later."

Honestly, Will wasn't sure if there would _be_ a later. So far, things had only gone from bad to worse, although that was to be expected. As Halt had told him, battles always got worse before they get better. Then he'd grimly added, _if they get better,_ which hadn't been all that reassuring for Will's nerves. With a sigh, he said, "if there is a later."

Then, from the lines behind them, they heard the thrum of bowstrings and the hissing flight of another volley. They looked at one another in amazement. "It's Evanlyn!" Will exclaimed. "She's still got them firing!"

Horace gestured to the swarming Temujai surrounding the thin line of defenders who were keeping them out of the archer's redoubt. "She won't for much longer." The Skandian line was already beginning to buckle, and now that Horace had pointed it out, Will saw it, too. "Come on!" Horace said. "Watch my back and yell if you get in trouble." With that, he bounded down the slope, sword rising and falling as he drove his attack into the rear of the Temujai.

Startled at the ferocity of his assault, they gave ground for a few seconds, but Will, watching, knew it wouldn't last. And he was right. After seeing that the new assault consisted of only two men- one of them armed only with knives- they rallied and drove forward again.

The two fought grimly, gathering a small group of the remaining defenders around them, but the enemy numbers were beginning to grow and now the individual Temujai were bypassing the small knot of defenders and dropping into the trench itself. Will heard Evanlyn's voice raised in urgent tones as she directed some of the archers to fire point-blank at the attackers and, cursing inwardly, Will knew it was only a matter of minutes before the Temujai overran the trench and killed everyone in it.

"Come on!" he said, leading the way toward the trench, fear for Evanlyn beginning to rise in his chest.

A Temujai warrior barred his way and he struck at the man with his saxe knife, wincing as the blow jarred all the way up his arm. A warning cry caused him to turn, just in time to block a savage saber cut with his crossed knives. Then Horace was there again, slashing at the man. The two friends fought side by side, but there were too many Temujai. Will's heart sank as he realized they weren't going to reach Evanlyn in time.

Helpless, he watched, only dimly remembering to block and parry with his knives. A group of Temujai were coming into the trench, and this time, he knew, there'd be no stopping them. As they advanced mercilessly, Evanlyn's archers only managing to pick off a few of them, Will felt utter hopelessness begin to well up inside him. He realized he'd begun to shake as he watched the battlefield, unable to do anything to save Evanlyn, only able to defend himself.

"Behind you!" Horace's urgent warning found him just in time, and through the descending haze in his mind, he leaped sideways.

As he turned to look at Evanlyn again, he saw a Temujai officer poised over her, his sword held in two hands as he raised it high above his head.

His heart stopped.

"Evanlyn!"

And, hearing him, she turned, met his agonized gaze, and smiled- a smile that knew there was no escaping this, a smile that remembered everything they'd been through in the past eleven months, a smile that spoke of the unbreakable bond between the two.

A smile that remembered all they'd meant to each other.

And in that moment, he knew he couldn't let her die. In one swift movement he caught his saxe knife by the point, drew his arm back, and threw it forward. It took the officer under the left arm just before he began his downward cut. With a low cry, the man toppled to the ground, dead.

Now, armed with only one tiny knife, Will knew it was over. A Tem'uj tackled him and he went down, ineffectually slashing with his knife. Although he'd thought of dying- and, recently, almost wanted it- now he realized he most certainly did _not_ want to die. But he couldn't see of any way out.

Will's way out came in the form of a mighty roar and the Tem'uj being ripped from Will and thrown headlong. Startled, Will looked around to see Ragnak, a berserking fury in his eyes, routing the remaining Tem'uj, surrounded by a dozen more axemen in the same state as he. Ragnak's shirt was torn to ribbons and he was bleeding from dozens of wounds, but they didn't even seem to slow him down.

"Horace!" Will croaked, only then realizing that Ragnak and his men were going the opposite way of Horace- Horace who was surrounded by four warriors. And then he heard another sound, a familiar one this time. It was the comforting, deep-throated thrum of a longbow, and as Horace's attackers fell dead, Will felt a sense of relief. Halt had arrived.

Running over to the fallen Tem'uj officer, Will recovered his saxe knife and started fighting again, but there was no need. Before he could even rejoin the battle, a silver-toned bugle sounded. As one, every Tem'uj turned and fled, and Will realized they'd signaled the retreat.

It was over.

The Skandians let out a victory cry. A strange cross between a sob and a laugh came out of Will's mouth, and he crumpled to the ground, tears of relief leaking out of his eyes. Horace approached him, and Will saw his friend was crying, too.

"It's over," Will murmured almost reverently, sheathing his knives. "It's finally over." Horace bent down and offered him a hand, which Will gratefully took. As he stood up, he slowly turned around, surveying the remains of the battlefield. Bodies were heaped everywhere- some dead, some dying. Will saw far too many of his own men there, lifeless, and felt a pang of grief, but even that couldn't dull the exultation of victory.

A thought occurred to him and he looked over towards where he'd last seen Ragnak. The huge Oberjarl was face down on the ground, motionless. Halt was standing beside him, a grave expression on his face.

"Halt!" Will cried, hastening over to them. "Is he...?"

"Yes," Halt replied. "He's dead."

That took Will a second to process. Ragnak had been huge, terrifying, _alive-_ and now he was just that: he was a had been. He was dead. "Well," he said, trying to be optimistic, "at least Evanlyn's safe now."

Halt said nothing. Around them, the remaining Skandians were beginning to pour in, some dragging the bodies of their comrades with them. All stopped as they beheld their Oberjarl.

"He died in battle," Halt said, turning to face them. "He died with a weapon in his hand, a berserker. There is no greater honor than that." Low murmurs of agreement echoed around the field, and now two Skandians bent down and lifted their leader up on their shoulders, solemnly carrying him back to his hall.

"Halt," Will said cautiously, not sure how the Ranger would receive his words, "are you all right?"

The Ranger looked at him. "Well, I'm not the one dead, am I?"

Will tried again. "No, I meant- are you injured? I mean, you were with Ragnak, right? And he's-" he motioned at the retreating body of the Skandian leader. Halt's eyes softened.

"I'm fine. The Skandians hardly let me do any fighting, they were so eager to do battle." Will nodded. Then he automatically glanced down at his arm, just now remembering the wound he'd received. The bloodstain had seeped through a large part of his clothing, and now that the adrenaline was gone, he was starting to feel faint. Without another word, Halt stepped forward and pulled Will's uninjured arm over his shoulder, supporting him to the infirmary.

* * *

On the way there, it belatedly occurred to Will that, in order for the healer to treat him, Will would have to take his shirt off. The wound wasn't all that deep, but it was pretty painful and bled a lot. Even though it was only on the front part of him, Will had no doubt that Halt would end up seeing his back. And, well, that was a conversation he'd really rather avoid, especially now that it'd been several weeks and Halt would know Will had been lying to him. Intentionally.

So...he needed something to get Halt- literally- off his back until he was bandaged up and had his shirt back on him. He bit his lip. He couldn't think of any plausible excuse that would do it without making the Ranger suspicious- and Halt, it seemed, was already suspicious, going from what he'd said two days before when he'd told Will about his banishment.

Thankfully, however, help came in the form of Erak. "Ranger," he said, "we need your help organizing a strategy in case the Temujai come back."

"They won't." Halt kept walking, forcing Erak and Will to keep up with him.

"How can you be so sure?"

Halt looked up at Erak, gaze steely. "Once the Temujai sound a retreat, it means they've accepted that their losses are too great to continue. Now, we need to tend to our wounded." He sent a pointed stare at Erak, who looked down as if just now seeing Will.

"Ah, Will! Got your first battle-wound, have you?"

Will nodded. Even though his wound was starting to clot up, he could still feel his body weakening from the blood-loss. "Yes. On- on my arm." He lifted his eyes to Erak's, hoping the jarl would realize what he was trying to say.

Apparently, he did. "Splendid! Let me help you to the infirmary myself, then. This is a momentous occasion; by my people's standards, you've just come to manhood!" Privately, Will had his doubts about the veracity of Erak's last statement- he felt like the Skandians thought of manhood more under terms of how many people they'd killed than of how injured they'd gotten doing it, but he realized Erak was trying to save him and said nothing.

"No. I'm taking him."

With a sinking feeling, Will came to the conclusion that now that he'd aroused Halt's suspicions, he wasn't going to let go until Will had either proved or disproved them. Nothing anyone could say was going to stop Halt now.

Erak ignored Halt's words and joined up with them, the massive Skandian effortlessly creating a path through the now-crammed streets of Hallasholm with the aid of his sheer size. It took another few minutes to reach the newly-built infirmary. The first one was an add-on to the great hall, but Halt, knowing it'd be completely packed, had decided to take Will to one he'd had the foresight to ask for, a few days before the battle. By that time, Will's stomach was beginning to tie into knots and his vision seemed a little darker than usual.

"What is it?" A cheery Skandian woman greeted them the moment they walked through the doors, hands on her hips. Around them, a few dozen other women came in and out of different rooms, carrying medical supplies and with bloodied and dirtied aprons.

"The lad's got..." Erak turned to Will, gesturing for him to tell the woman what was wrong.

"Um, a Tem'uj caught me in the shoulder with his sword," Will said awkwardly. "It doesn't seem that deep, though, so it should be all right."

She didn't look convinced with his last words, which didn't surprise him. Living amongst the Skandians, 'not that deep' probably meant 'near-fatal', given their berserking tendencies and general lust for war. "All right," she said, "come this way." Halt and Erak started to move with Will, but she held up a hand to stop them. "Not so many," she chided. "You'll get in my way."

"I'd like to watch," Halt said evenly.

"As would I."

She heaved an exasperated sigh. "Since I don't have the time to pick between you two, this young man will come back with me by himself."

"But-"

She cut Halt off, not at all intimidated. "Did you hear me, Ranger?" Halt grumbled something under his breath but ducked out from under Will's body. The apprentice, used to Halt's support, staggered and would have fell if not for Erak, who held him up with barely any effort.

"You're light as a feather, boy!" The jarl exclaimed, rather loudly. As if realizing he'd made a mistake, he then gave a hasty glance at Halt, who was giving Will a look that distinctly read, _you won't be so lucky next time._ Will judiciously ignored him and pulled himself out of Erak's grasp, following the healer as she led him into a back room.

"Hold still," she said once he'd sat down on the small mat they had laid out for each patient. "I'm going to cut your shirt off of you."

"Wait!" Will said. "I don't have any other clothes. Can't I just take it off?"

She shook her head. "No, it's already shredded in several different places, and most likely sticking to your wound. It'd hurt like hell to take it off. Cutting it will be much easier."

"Do you have any spare shirts, at least?"

This time, she nodded. "Yes...although I've my doubts at how well they'll fit you. I suppose we have some boy's clothing around here somewhere."

A little offended at being compared to a child, Will huffed, but sat still as she picked up a small knife and carefully began to cut away at his shirt. Once that was done, she carefully lifted the pieces off and examined the wound.

"You're in luck," she told him. "It's just a flesh wound. Should heal up nicely within a few weeks. I'll have to stitch it up, though." She turned around to get some damp cloths and a needle and thread. When she came back, Will heard her involuntary gasp and knew what had happened; she'd seen his back. He froze, looking up at her with wide eyes. He knew that those lines on his back marked him a slave, and as he'd been brought here by a Skandian who in no way treated him as inferior, it was pretty obvious he'd escaped.

"Oh, dear boy," the woman said, eyes misty. "I've not seen marks that bad in years."

"You haven't seen many slaves, then," Will said before he could stop himself. The look of pain in the healer's eyes made him wish he hadn't said anything.

"I treat all those I can, but I don't ever remember seeing you."

"You wouldn't have," Will said quietly. "All they ever did in terms of treatment was give me some rags as bandages and throw me back in the shelter."

"Were you a yard slave, then?"

He nodded. "Yes."

There was a long silence. He heard her footsteps come closer and tensed, half-expecting a blow or kick, but then she knelt beside him and began to slowly dab at his wounds. As she worked, cleaning his injury with a gentleness that surprised him, he heard her murmur _I'm so sorry._


	6. Chapter 6

In the following days after the battle, Ragnak's body was given the usual Skandian funerary honors. Translated, this meant that there were three days of drunken partying under guise of mourning their Oberjarl's death. After the appropriate time had been given, a council was held to elect the new Oberjarl. And, a few days later, the four Araluens found out to their combined shock that the new leader was to be Erak.

Once they had a leader, Halt proposed the deal he and Will had thought up about the Araluen archers. Thankfully, it didn't take much convincing; Erak agreed within minutes, and Evanlyn, stepping forward to sign in the place of Halt, sealed the deal with the Skandians.

Walking back to their rooms from that very same meeting, Will hesitated. "Halt," he asked, "you mentioned leaving for Araluen in a few days."

"Yes."

"But, you were banished."

"Yes," Halt said again. The expression on his face would've scared most other people off, but not Will.

"If we're going back, I'm not leaving you behind."

"You say that like you have a choice," Halt said, deceptively mildly. Halt didn't often choose to remind Will of his apprenticeship blatantly- in recent events, Will had thought Halt thought of him almost as a friend, if anything- but apparently, the Ranger wasn't upset about having to make an exception.

However, Will wouldn't be cowed. "I'm not leaving you behind," he repeated stubbornly. "You deserve the most recognition out of anyone for what you did here."

"A Ranger's life is not about recognition, Will," Halt told him. "It's not the Ranger way."

He glared at his mentor and friend. "Halt," he pleaded, "please. I don't want to have to go without you." His voice cracked a little and he looked down, embarrassed.

"I'll come with you until we get to the border. Then I'll stay there until my banishment is passed. The Princess has been away from home long enough already."

"So have you!" Will burst out. "You deserve to be back there more than anyone! I'm not setting foot into Araluen until your banishment is up." He crossed his arms, daring Halt to contradict him. "I don't care what you have to say; since you're not a Ranger anymore, you're not technically my master, either, right?"

Halt glared at him, not happy Will had pointed out that technicality he'd, until that moment, forgotten about. "Fine," he said, defeated. "We'll stay in Skandia for a few more weeks." He shook his head, muttering, but inside he felt a warm glow of pride at how much Will had changed in the past year. Twelve months ago Will would never have dared to talk back to his master in that fashion, and although it was a little annoying, that steadfast quality was something invaluable, especially as a Ranger.

"Yes!" Will gave him a huge grin and began chattering on excitedly about something, but a few minutes in, Halt noticed something strange.

Will's smile never reached his eyes.

Indeed, Will had changed in the past year, Halt thought, this time grimly. And not all of those changes had been good. As of yet, he had no clue what had made Will's eyes so sad, what had made him quieter even despite his attempts to regain his past cheeriness. Halt had tried to ask Erak about it, then Evanlyn, but both had feigned confusion, saying that what he already knew was everything that had happened.

Halt knew that Will had been enslaved, and from what he'd seen during his visit in Skandia, it hadn't been a pleasant experience. He had no idea what it entailed- if they'd been beaten, starved, or simply worked to death- but he didn't think it was anything good.

Will had changed, personality wise. At first, his brain had seemed almost agonizingly slow to come up with solutions to problems- he'd even showed hesitation replying to people in normal conversation. That, at least, was waning, but there were other things. When Halt had taken Will to his room to explain about his banishment, he'd noticed the boy was on the verge of panicking, and several times over the past weeks, he'd noted the boy's eyes seemed to glaze over as if he were in another world. Not to mention the snippet of overheard conversation he'd heard between the Princess and Will before Halt had arrived to tell Will of his banishment.

"...Halt?"

The Ranger blinked, coming back to attention. Will had obviously been trying to ask him something. _Some things never change,_ he thought with a hint of fondness. "What is it now?" he asked irritably.

"Oh, I was wondering how Skandians did the whole berserking thing," Will explained. Despite the curiosity in his tone, Will's eyes seemed dull and almost bored-looking, like he didn't really care how the Skandians did that but knew he should be asking questions like that.

And that was what worried Halt the most.

* * *

The next day, Halt set out to find out, once and for all, what had happened to Will. Even if Erak and the Princess wouldn't tell him, there had to be someone else that'd recognize Will. Another fellow slave, perhaps, or maybe even the overseer.

However, a few hours in, Halt had no such luck. The only thing he got for his troubles was a rather disturbing tidbit of information: the reason neither the slaves _n_ _or_ the overseer recognized the name Will was because slaves died off too quickly for them to be remembered. No slave currently in the yard was still alive from when Will had been a slave.

The knowledge of that, that Will had been mere weeks, if not days, away from death, was sobering. Although he'd never regretted his banishment before, he'd never been so ardently thankful for it, either. If he hadn't come onto that Temujai campsite...if, for that matter, the Princess and Erak had been a little less resourceful, a little less kind or brave...Will would be long dead.

It didn't occur to Halt for a second to blame Will for that. He knew that, were he a little younger, he himself could easily have fallen prey to the exact same treatment. Will was still just a boy. He hadn't deserved any of what had happened to him.

Of course, Halt didn't actually know all that had happened to him...

The next few days after that, he set to questioning the healers, the jarls- even, in one last desperate reach, tried asking Erak again. Every attempt proved futile. With every _sorry, I don't know of him,_ the Ranger grew more and more frustrated. Finally, in a fit of rage, he went down to the shooting range, intending to take his grievances out on wooden targets since flesh targets weren't really an option.

Only to find, upon his arrival, that Will was already there.

Halt stood stock-still so Will wouldn't sense him out of the corner of his eye and withheld a sigh. He should've predicted that his apprentice would want to keep training- in fact, now that Halt thought about it, he should be taking the three weeks they have and using them to teach Will. However, Halt was not a Ranger anymore, even though he still thought of himself as one. Although he had no doubt Crowley would reinstate him immediately (or, more likely, force Halt to wait a few days just to annoy him), right now, he wasn't a Ranger. Which meant that Will wasn't technically his apprentice.

Which meant that, technically, Halt couldn't force him to train. Of course, Halt was sure that he could intimidate the boy into following his orders- especially since Will seemed to want to regain his former skill without any prodding- but...Will had been through a lot recently. Halt figured he could at least give the boy a break from training, until they got back to Redmont. He promised himself he'd make up for it by redoubling Will's training once they were home.

However, in the meantime, he had a problem. Will was taking up the shooting range, so Halt had two options: either sit there and watch Will like a camouflaged, stalking, overprotective mother hen, or go off into the forests surrounding Hallasholm and make his own targets.

His choice was clear.

He shifted onto his other foot and resigned himself to several hours of waiting.

* * *

After day twelve, Halt finally gave up trying to get information from the Skandians. It was obvious they weren't keen on sharing just how inhumane they were with their slaves to a qualified Ranger who could put an arrow through them before they could blink. Their sheer unwillingness to talk definitely did nothing to ease the uneasy knot building up in his stomach, however.

So, Halt tried a different approach. Instead of trying different Skandians for intelligence, he'd simply...ask Will. Never mind that the boy had been rather obviously avoiding him as of late. The Ranger knew that if he pressed Will hard enough, the boy would tell him.

...Right?

In all honesty, Halt was walking on unfamiliar ground. Will's honesty had been one of his defining traits, along with his curiosity, cheeriness, and courage. It said something about Will's current state that, of his four defining attributes, one of those four had been thrown aside, two were being faked, and the last- well, Halt hadn't seen Will fighting recently, but he was ready to guess that he at least had that left. After all, courage was a rather spur of the moment thing and didn't depend on mental or physical state.

Without Will's honesty...Halt had no idea what to do. It had been one of the reasons he'd picked Will as his apprentice. Although obviously Halt wasn't going to kick Will out because he lied, it was disturbing that Will, once so blatantly honest, thought it was necessary to lie not just to Halt, but to Horace as well, repeatedly. Day in and day out. Without seeming to show the slightest guilt.

What had happened to his apprentice that was so awful he felt the need to cover it even from Halt?

Halt didn't have a clue. But as the second week drew to a close and they began their preparations to go back to Araluen, he resolved to force it out of Will, one way or another. Even though Will took pains to avoid his master, Halt wasn't easy to fool. There was no way Will was going to be able to hide from him or ignore him for long.

On day fourteen, Halt went to Evanlyn and Will's shared room. He raised his fist to knock, then stiffened. Inside, it sounded like someone was...crying?

"Shh, it's all right, Evanlyn," a soothing voice murmured. Will? "It wasn't real. I'm here. I'm safe."

Belatedly, Halt realized it was three in the morning and, under normal circumstances, Will would've been asleep and therefore unable to answer to the Ranger's demands.

"It- it felt...felt real." That was the Princess, voice breaking and fragile. Through the thick door, Halt heard a soft rustling sound that could've been Will stroking her hair.

"I know. But I'm still alive, see? If I were a ghost, you couldn't touch me."

"I-I know that. But it still..."

"I know," Will repeated softly. It occurred to Halt that he'd never heard Will speak that gently before, except to Tug. "Just breathe, Evanlyn. It's going to be okay."

Suddenly feeling like he was intruding on a very intimate moment, Halt drew back. He'd talk to Will later.

* * *

To Will, the last three weeks he spent in Skandia seemed to fly by. His time was entirely occupied by spending time with his Skandian friends, practicing his Ranger skills, and helping Evanlyn. After the battle, her nightmares had only increased. Will had tried to offer her some of the sleeping drug Erak had given him, but she refused, saying that she couldn't even think of taking drugs after what had happened to Will. The apprentice, knowing how hard it had been for him to take the drugs himself, didn't push after that.

However, that now meant that nearly every night, Evanlyn's screams pierced the stillness of their bedroom, waking Will up anywhere from two to five in the morning. He now spent the majority of his nights comforting the person he trusted more than anyone. It was exhausting, but she'd been there for him when he'd been drugged and unable to do anything but stare. It was time he paid her back in full for everything she'd given him.

Night after night he rubbed her back and murmured soothing words into her ear until she fell back asleep. Night after night he pushed aside his own weariness for the needs of one of the people he cared about most. He paid for it every morning but refused to show it, not wanting Evanlyn to feel guilty.

Despite himself, however, he couldn't help but look forward to the time when they'd be back in Araluen and she'd be back at home in Castle Araluen, with servants who'd be more qualified and less broken than he, able to deal with Evanlyn's nightmares. It was an unworthy thought, but one he couldn't stop thinking.

At the same time, though, he dreaded going back. Once he went back to Redmont, he'd be with Halt 24/7 for the next three years of his apprenticeship- and that was assuming that he passed all the assessments. Will knew his shooting was improving, but was it enough? He was sometimes aware of eyes watching him and automatically knew they were Halt's, but his mentor never revealed himself, never said anything afterwards- although to be sure, Will avoided him as much as possible, so he didn't really have a chance to tell Will anything.

And as much as Will hated to admit it, being a Ranger involved more than just archery and knife-throwing. Those were valuable skills, to be sure, but it was also about diplomacy, strategizing, and- he couldn't believe he was saying this- geography. Rangers weren't just meant to be solo assassins, although they could be very effective at that, if necessary. They were meant to be leaders, tacticians, spies. Will had no idea how his unseen movement was now, and he seriously doubted he was anything close to a competent tactician- or if he'd ever be. He had no idea how far and long-lasting the effects of warmweed were.

So, in a way, he didn't want to go back to Redmont. He didn't want to have to face the potential long-term problems in his mind and body from Skandia. He didn't want to have to endure Halt's scrutiny that'd inevitably fade into criticism, anger, and then, worst of all...disappointment. He didn't want to face his mentor's disappointment when he finally realized just how scarred Will had become.

But where else could he go? Although the Skandians were friendly to one that had helped save their lives, Will didn't want to stay in Hallasholm. It held too many bad memories, and the weather and conditions were not ones he liked. He much preferred the warmth and serene quiet of Redmond fief, or Araluen in general. However, if he went back to Araluen, he'd have to face his responsibilities as a Ranger's apprentice, and maybe even the fact that he was no longer fit to take them on.

Even the thought of that made his chest ache.

True, he had always longed to go to Battleschool to become a knight. He'd dreamed of sitting on a mighty steed, steel sword flashing as he beheaded a Wargal, but that dream was childish and had faded after Halt had become his mentor. Instead of dreams of valor, he found himself looking forward only to the calm routine of Ranger life. Instead of his wish for a mighty battle horse, he had Tug, far more loyal and true than any knight's horse could ever be. Instead of desiring a bright sword and shining, steel armor, he only wanted his bow, his knives, and a mottled green and grey cloak.

Now, he was terrified that it'd all be torn away from him. For the first time in his life, Will belonged. He was part of the tightly-knit Ranger Corps, friends with Horace, Alyss, Evanlyn and Gilan, and his family was in Tug. And, even though he wasn't sure what Halt would think of it, his family was in Halt, too.

If he went back to Redmont, he risked his family, his friends, his home and his life being ripped away from him once Halt realized he was no longer fit to be a Ranger.

If he didn't, it was a surety.

"Will, what's wrong?" It was Evanlyn- or, as Horace had begun calling her more recently, Princess Cassandra. The apprentice dimly realized he was sitting on the floor next to his bed, curled in a ball. Crying. He didn't remember crying the tears that now stained his face. Yet another symbol of how unworthy he was.

"Nothing." Will was a good liar now, and maybe it would've convinced her if Will wasn't in the fetal position and sobbing, and also if she hadn't already known most everything that came out of Will's mouth these days was a lie.

"Will."

He sighed. "Really, Evanlyn, it's nothing. Just...going to miss this place."

The Princess was growing more skeptical by the second. "You're...going to miss Skandia?"

Will winced. "Maybe not Skandia. More like the people. I'll miss not being able to see Erak or Svengal."

"Me, too." She paused. "But that's not the real reason for this-" she motioned to Will's prone form, "-is it?"

He slowly looked up. Evanlyn was standing over him, hands on her hips. She looked every bit the overprotective older sister- and, since Will didn't know her exact age, she very well could've been. Unwillingly, he said, "no. It's not."

There was a soft rustle of fabric as she sat down next to him. "What is it?"

One of the things he liked about her was that she couldn't read him all that well. It meant that, most of the time, she had no idea what he was thinking. It made for a very welcome change from Alyss and Rangers like Halt and Gilan, who seemed to be able to read his mind effortlessly. However, even though she didn't often know Will's true motives, she still generally knew when he was lying, so Will didn't lie to her.

"Just...I don't want to go back to Araluen."

A shocked exhale. "What? Why? You don't want to see your friends again?"

"I mean..." Will racked his brain, trying to explain. "Yes and no. Yes, I want to see them. But...I don't want them to see me like this. I don't want them to see me...broken." He'd said that word, _broken,_ in reference to himself several times now. It never failed to make something crack apart in his chest, like fractured bone or splintered rib, but deeper.

"Will, you're not-"

"Then what am I?" he retorted angrily, eyes boring into hers. "What am I, Evanlyn, if _not_ broken? I can't think, can't feel like I used to be able to- I don't feel _alive_ anymore. I feel dead. I've stopped caring about almost everything, and it's scaring me." He leaned his head back against his bed and closed his eyes, trying to hold back his tears. "I'm scared that one day, I'll stop caring about whether I live or die."

No one said anything for a long while. Tentatively, as if she were unsure whether he'd let her or not, Evanlyn slipped her arms around him and squeezed tight. "Please, Will, promise me you'll never..."

"I'll try," he whispered. "But if...if Crowley or Halt or anybody finds out..."

"I can plead with my father," she said. "He doesn't hold much sway over the Rangers but, maybe..."

"No. I couldn't do that to you. You've already done so much for me, and I'll never be able to repay you for it." He looked over at her, and the barest trace of a smile flickered over his lips. "Really, Evanlyn, thank you. I'm- I'm not good with speeches, but it's- I..." he stopped, flushing. Evanlyn giggled a little bit and he gave her a good-natured glare. "What you've done for me is immeasurable. I'm not sure if I'll ever become a Ranger, but even still, I vow to protect you to the best of my ability. With my life, if I have to."

The kiss was slow, and neither knew who had initiated it, or if both had leaned in at the same time. As Will pulled away, the dim, flickering light of the fireplace cast shadows across Evanlyn's face. For a while more, neither spoke, unsure of what to say.

Finally, Evanlyn broke the silence. "For all that you say I've done for you, I count what you've done for me as even more. I'll never forget how you comforted me on the ship, then in Skorghijl, then in Skandia before we parted, and now every night. Thank you so much for that, Will."

As Will looked into her eyes, tired and sad but still caring and warm, he began to remember everything they'd been through. He realized just how much she meant to him, and how much he meant to her. And, with a pang in his heart, he knew it would never last. He was a nobody, and she a Princess. But that didn't stop him from hugging her fiercely, head burrowed into her shoulder as he cried. As he realized that this was to be their goodbye, even if they'd see each other after this.

And, as he sobbed into her shoulder, he felt her body against his, wracked with sobs as well, and knew she'd realized the same thing.

"I'm sorry, Cassandra," he whispered.

She didn't reply.

 **A/N:** not sure if you all already knew this or not but...I looked up Hibernia just out of curiosity the other day and...turns out, Hibernia is the old Latin name for Ireland! So not only is Halt Irish, he was also the crown prince of one of the provinces in Ireland at the time.

However, it gets even better than that. When he's first described in the Ruins of Gorlan, his voice is said to be quiet, deep, and- get this- with the 'slightest hint of a Hibernian burr'. So basically Halt has an Irish accent and my life is complete.


	7. Chapter 7

The three weeks were over. Halt's banishment still had a little less than a week to run, but Erak assured the annoyed Will that their voyage to Araluen would take up the remaining days easily. By the time they made landfall on Araluen's nearest shore, Halt would legally be able to cross over.

In some ways, the voyage was the hardest part for Will and Cassandra. Both were now all too aware of what had happened a few days prior, and both knew that they could never have a relationship like that. Their differences in station were too vast. Cassandra was to marry a prince or a nobleman, not a peasant boy like Will. Will...well, Will had honestly never really thought about marriage. He had lived in the present- until Skandia. Now, he felt he lived every moment still tormented by his past.

Four days had passed. Erak told them they'd be at Araluen by sunset of the next day. Will now stood at the ship's side, peering into the vast, deep waves. With every meter the ship took closer to Araluen, Will's stomach contorted tighter. It was an odd mix of nerves, anxiety, and terror, made all the worse from his lingering seasickness- they'd run into some rough waters, and neither Will nor Halt had been too happy about it.

Now, as he watched the waves, Will was running over different scenarios in his mind. He'd started doing that a lot lately, seeing it as an exercise to at least attempt to get his brain functions back to normal. His memories were returning and his speech no longer slurred, but it still wasn't enough for Will. He could still notice the differences.

The problem he was currently turning over in his head was his return to Redmont. Nothing simultaneously delighted and terrified him at the same time as did that. Redmont fief meant having to show his friends, his family, how scarred he was. It meant the uncertainty of his apprenticeship and the vivid, endless fear that Halt would one day find out- that Will would slip up, reveal something he shouldn't, and then...

Will closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his vision was blurred. Every time he thought about it, he wanted to run more- run far, far away to where no one would ever be able to find him. To where he could start his life anew where no one would know him as Will the orphan or Will the apprentice or Will the slave. He'd just be...Will. No one would have any unreal expectations; no one would expect him to be able to shoot ten arrows in the span of five seconds or plan out an entire battle strategy in minutes. He could just...be.

The only things keeping him from that were Alyss, Halt, and Cassandra. Tug didn't count because he knew his faithful horse would follow him to the ends of the earth if Will asked him to. Cassandra...he was starting to think Cassandra didn't count, either. After they returned home, Will would only see her on rare occasions- and he'd never be allowed that depth in relationship he'd had in Skandia.

Strangely, Will didn't really feel much of attachment to any of them anymore. He knew he _should-_ knew he'd once cared for them more than anything- but now...nothing. Will remembered hearing about depression during his years in the ward. His wardmates had made it seem like a huge, scary monster living inside your brain that made you cry incessantly. Now that he was older, however, he had a more realistic view. He'd managed to snag a book on mental illnesses from the Baron's rooms when Will had been thirteen, and a rather large part of it had been devoted to depression.

Based on that, Will had a sudden, horrid feeling that he had depression. It'd make sense- over the past few weeks, Will had stopped caring about most things. The book had said that depression could be with you from childhood or only happen after something traumatizing happened to you. Will could safely say that Skandia had been pretty damn traumatizing. And, although Will didn't want to die, he'd found he wouldn't really care one way or another. And that was terrifying.

But because of his new lack of feeling, Will had stopped caring as much about others around him. It was like he was in an isolated bubble filled with bad memories, panic attacks, and self-loathing. Just like he didn't care if he lived or died, Will didn't particularly care whether or not Halt and Alyss were there. He knew he _should_ care about them, but all he felt was a curious sense of detachment. Like he was living in a separate world from everyone else.

Will didn't try to bridge the gap, but that was okay, because no one else tried, either. Even though one part of his mind told him that he should tell _someone_ about it, the other, larger part didn't want to be called weak. Who knew? Maybe depressed Rangers got kicked out, too.

So that was why Will was considering running away. In the midst of his depression, he felt no connection, no real obligation, to anyone. He felt numb and void. Although logically he knew Alyss and Halt were people he cared for, he couldn't feel it. The only thing Will could feel was fear and loneliness.

"Hey."

Will ignored the voice.

"Hey, you."

He closed his eyes. Something jarred him, shaking him- a person. A very angry Skandian. "Hey! Don't ignore me!"

"I'm listening," Will said, too tired to put up his cheery facade.

All of a sudden, the Skandian's face, originally angry, did a complete 180 into a smug smirk. Will's heart sank. "You're that sarcastic like know-all Ranger's pet, right? His little apprentice?"

Will said nothing, knowing the man would take his silence as a confirmation.

"Well, you see he's been asking about you. Wants to know about slavery and how you were treated." The man sneered. "Didn't tell your master about it yourself? That's not a good boy."

Terror skyrocketed. Halt was asking about him? "Wh-what did you tell him?"

A laugh. "Nothing- yet. Don't get your hopes up. I told the others to keep quiet, figured I could make you buy our silence. What d'you say, boy?"

Will closed his eyes, suddenly nauseous. Then a thought struck him and he opened them again. "You look familiar. Were you in Slagor's crew?"

As the man's eyes darkened, Will knew he'd hit the mark. "You little brat! You were responsible for my captain's execution!"

Old Will would've sighed or rolled his eyes or said something. Present Will just felt tired, lonely, and scared. His head hurt and his brain felt like it was moving through miles of molasses. _If Halt finds out...Halt can't find out. He can't. I'd rather die._ "What do you want me to do?"

The Skandian- Usnik? laughed again. "Good boy. I want you to tell your master you don't want to be a Ranger. I want you to resign from the apprenticeship."

Will went cold.

 _I have to..._

 _Have to..._

 _No, I can't._

He'd known from the beginning he wouldn't like what the Skandian would ask him to do, but he hadn't suspected the man would take it that far. It was clear he held a vengeful hatred towards Will and most likely Halt and Cassandra that could almost be formed into a Vallasvow. He wanted Will to suffer.

Will left without saying anything, hearing only the echo of Usnik's laughter as he found a secluded area on the wolfship and paced. For hours, Will paced in the small space he'd come to call his own, thinking. What Usnik wanted was impossible. Will could never look Halt in the eye and tell his own mentor he didn't want to be a Ranger anymore. Halt kicking him out would be painful enough; pretending that Will _wanted_ it? Will was only willing to lie so much. He would not lie about that. He would never lie about that.

As much as it pained him to say this...

Will had to tell Halt. If he only told Halt a little, he could bluff his way through a confrontation with Usnik and get the man to leave him alone. After all, they only had one day left; how much harm could the Skandian really do?

Although, Will was forced to wonder why Halt had only just now started asking. Will hadn't done anything within the last five days that could be considered suspicious- however, in the last few weeks before that, he had. It made him think that Halt had probably been asking for a while and had gotten nothing for his trouble, which meant that either Halt was asking the wrong people, or no one was willing or able to tell him what he wanted to know.

Halt was smart. If one tactic didn't work, he'd switch to another. He wouldn't have just asked about Will; eventually, he most likely would've switched to asking about slaves' treatment in general. And if he hadn't gotten a satisfactory amount of information from that...that must mean Skandians, as a whole, were unwilling to talk about slavery.

So the question was, why was Usnik different? Would he blatantly talk about something the rest of his people wouldn't, just to spite Will?

In all honesty, Will wasn't certain. He couldn't take the chance that the Skandian was bluffing, so he now had two options: he could either tell Halt something simple along the lines of his starvation and the freezing conditions and bluff his way out...or, the more appealing option, knock Usnik out, gag him, and store him in a crate. Although Will hadn't seen any crates around, he knew that there had to be something the Skandians used to store their loot in. Will just had to rely on his speed and stealth to catch Usnik unaware, knock him out, gag him, and drag him off, hopefully when nobody else was awake to see him.

So...tonight. Tonight was when he'd act.

* * *

It went without a hitch, surprisingly. Granted, Usnik's body was harder to drag around than Will had thought, his muscles still weak despite his hours of training, but he managed to eventually drag him to a waiting crate.

The moment he'd shut the lid over the unconscious crewman was when it went a bit sideways.

"Will? What in the Vallas did you do that for?"

 _Oh no._ Will turned around, trying to hide the guilty look on his face. "Oh, hello Erak."

The huge Skandian shook his head with a sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you, it's Oberjarl now? And don't deflect the subject! I saw you stowing one of my crew inside a crate. What was that for?"

Will winced, then subtly looked around to see if anyone was listening in. Once he was satisfied they weren't, he tugged Erak's arm closer and murmured, "he tried to blackmail me into telling." He didn't specify what the telling was about or who the telling was for. Thankfully, Erak understood.

"Who was it?"

"He's called Usnik. He was part of Slagor's crew and wanted revenge."

Erak nodded slowly. "Alright. Although I can't punish him outright since his actions didn't harm my people in any way, I'll make sure he stays out of the way until you're safely home in Araluen."

That word, _home,_ felt strange to hear. Will nodded. "Thank you, Erak."

 _"Oberjarl!"_

* * *

When they sailed up to Castle Araluen, Will was relieved to hear that Usnik was still tied up in his crate. According to Erak, his crewmember had woken up around noon, mad as a hornet, but Erak had simply knocked him back out again before Usnik had even realized who it was.

The last day of Halt's banishment had been over yesterday. He was officially free to step on shore now without fear of death.

As they rounded the last bend in the river, there before them were the soaring spires and turrets of the grand castle. Awed, everyone who hadn't seen it before stared up at it, and even though who had could hardly take their eyes off it. Will managed to tear his away just in time to hear Halt's low warning to Erak: "you'd never make it past the moat."

A tiny smile flitted across Will's face. Some things never changed.

There was a landing stage jutting out into the river, and upon it, a huge crowd had gathered, waiting for the return of their princess. The Skandians seemed just as stunned at that, if not more.

"That's a first," Erak said mildly.

Halt grinned, looking over at his apprentice who was, for once, grinning back, eyes bright. "And there's another," he told Erak, motioning very slightly to the tall, bearded figure standing a little way back. "That's the King himself, come down to welcome you, Erak."

"More likely he's here for his daughter," the Skandian replied. Will noticed that he still looked rather pleased with himself, despite that.

Cassandra was standing at the prow, waving excitedly towards her father. Will shoved away the ache that was beginning to grow, the knowledge that they'd be separated within days. He could honestly say he'd loved her, while it had lasted. Now...now he wasn't sure. It was a confusing jumble, surrounded by numbness.

"Dad!" Scarcely waiting until the ship had moored, she leaped into her father's arms, burying her face into his shirt. It was a scene too similar to when Will had reunited with Halt, and the thought made him a little uncomfortable. He didn't want to think of Halt as his father. For reasons he didn't want to think of, either.

"Cassie!" The cheering intensified. The whole kingdom had known how much he'd mourned the loss of his daughter, and seeing them back together again was a scene that had even the Skandians smiling.

As people slowly disembarked one by one, Will stood back with Halt. He wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen to his mentor- if he'd be welcomed back with cheers or with silence. In spite of his newfound hatred for being in the center of attention- yet another lovely mark from Skandia- he couldn't bring himself to abandon his master. In the excitement, the adrenaline rush had almost returned Will to his old self- he felt a grin on his face and realized, for once, it wasn't fake. When he turned to Halt, smiling, he saw dark eyes widen in surprise before the Ranger gave him the tiniest of smiles back.

The crowd suddenly silenced. Will turned- it was Erak Starfollower, Oberjarl of the Skandians, who had stepped ashore. Instinctively, Araluens around him drew back, and if Will hadn't been next to Halt, he would've run forward himself towards Erak. Then King Duncan stepped forward, and he was smiling.

"Welcome to Araluen, Oberjarl," he said. "And thank you for bringing my daughter safely home." Extending his hand towards the Oberjarl, the two men shook hands. The cheering began again, but Duncan didn't let it go on for long, signalling for silence as he scanned the crowd for the face he wanted to see. Will instinctively knew it was Halt. The King shifted his gaze to the wolfship and found, to his surprise, not one but two Rangers there: Halt, his face unreadable, and next to him, grinning as bright as the sun, his apprentice.

"Halt," Duncan said softly. "Your banishment is over. You're home now."

Halt bowed his head. "Thank you, your majesty."

Side by side, master and apprentice disembarked. The cheering resumed once more, but Will didn't care. He only felt that old sense of curiosity when Crowley stepped up to them and pressed something into Halt's hand.

"You might be needing this again," Crowley said softly. He looked over at Will, gave a nod, and turned away.

Will looked at Halt's hand to see what Crowley had given him. It was a silver oakleaf, a little tarnished, but still beautiful. Halt's oakleaf.

"We're home, Halt," Will said, and when Halt turned to him, his eyes were glassy and damp.

"Yes, Will. We're home."

* * *

"Well," said King Duncan from his chair, "I've been dying to hear this ever since you set foot in Araluen yesterday. What happened in Skandia?"

Cassandra and Will stiffened just the slightest bit. Halt's eyes narrowed but he kept silent.

Finally, Will cleared his throat. "Would you like me to go first, your majesty?"

Halt's eyebrows shot up. First he'd caught Will widely, genuinely smiling; now he was volunteering information? Was Will to do a complete 180 now that he was back in Araluen? If so, that made Halt's job a whole lot easier.

At an approving nod from the King, Will began. "We were captured by the Skandians, as you know, my King. The head of the group that caught us was a jarl, or leader, named Erak." Around him, figures stiffened. "Yes, he's Oberjarl now." He paused, trying to decide if he should add that Halt was there or not. Deciding on no, he continued. "We ran into a horrible storm partway to Skandia. It was...awful. I won't go into much detail for the sake of brevity, but after it was over, Erak decided we couldn't go to Skandia when the seas were like this- we'd die before we ever got halfway there. So they charted course for an island called Skorghijl."

Cassandra interrupted him. "We spent several weeks, maybe a month or two, there. A few weeks in, a new ship came in, whose captain was named Slagor. The two crews got into a lot of fights, and at one point," she grinned, "Will ended up throwing his saxe knife at a wooden keg to prove he could've killed Slagor at any time."

Duncan raised his eyebrows. "That's...unique."

Unsure if he was allowed to interrupt a princess, Will continued timidly, "after a few more weeks there, we boarded the ship again and set sail for Hallasholm. Once there, we knew we were to be sold as slaves. Erak, however, hoping to do us a good turn, gave us over to work in Ragnak's, the Oberjarl at the time, great hall. Cassandra- or Evanlyn, as she was known as then- was put to work in the kitchens, and I..." he took a deep breath. "I was put to work in the yard."

Halt became so still he almost wondered if people could even see him anymore. Was Will finally going to reveal what had happened?

Will lifted one shoulder. "It wasn't pleasant, but again, I won't go into detail."

Apparently not. Halt withheld a sigh.

"After a few months of this, life as a slave in the yard became extremely taxing for me. Erak saw this and arranged for a way out for Evan- Cassandra and I. She- we- managed to escape and made it to a hunting lodge." He gave a grin. "I'll remind you that by this time, it was dead winter in Hallasholm, which meant even more snow than usual. We had to sit there, immobile, until the thaw hit and we could safely travel around again. By that time, Halt and Horace had made it to Skandia." He looked over at his master.

"Yes. Horace and I traveled through Gallica. Horace..." Halt hesitated. Horace shook his head vehemently. "Horace traveled under the banner of the Oakleaf Knight, or _Chevalier de la Feuille de Chêne."_ He remained silent for a moment, waiting for a reaction, which he got.

Rodney, sitting a few chairs from Horace, gave a surprised sound and looked over at Horace, who turned very pale. "We thought it was necessary to get through Gallica quickly enough to save the Princess and Will," Horace said in a very small voice.

"Never mind that," Duncan said impatiently. "What happened next?"

"We got waylaid several times," Halt continued, "but after a few months, we finally reached Skandia. Once we got there, however, I noticed some rather strange marks and decided to follow them. Just in time, too, because it turned out I was tracking a half-dozen Temujai who'd kidnapped Princess Cassandra and were about to kill her."

Gasps of horror.

Will put in, "they didn't actually know she was the Princess. I'm not really sure why they kidnapped her if they were going to kill her, but two of them seemed to be arguing the night before. I would've killed them as soon as possible, but I didn't have a weapon; the Skandians confiscated everything except my saxe knife, and that wasn't going to kill six Temujai. Anyway, they tried to kill her, and would've, if Halt and Horace hadn't arrived in the nick of time to save us both." He very carefully left out the part about him sobbing into Halt's chest.

"We ran into Erak again," Cassandra said, "and joined forces. Halt and Erak went to scout the Temujai forces-" Halt glared at the table, muttering something about bumbling Skandians, "-and realized there were somewhere between five to six thousand men marching towards Hallasholm."

Now that they were into the war, Will sat back, eyes fixed on the table. He'd been a little concerned that maybe Cassandra would say something- not sure why, because he'd always trusted her before- and had had to take control of the situation himself. Now that they were in safe territory, however, Will didn't care. He knew that the only thing Halt could bring up were his suspicions about Will's strange behavior, and the newly reinstated Ranger wouldn't breathe a word of that in the council room.

Will sighed. Now that the initial adrenaline had worn off, Will was back to his old, weary, numb self. He'd felt alive for the space of a day or so, and now that he was back to this, it felt even worse than before. He couldn't imagine what another week, month, year, _decade_ of this was going to be like. He zoned back in briefly to make sure they were still talking about the war. When he confirmed they were (and talking about Will's leadership skills with the archers, too!), he resumed his pensive thoughts.

More than anything, he didn't want to face what he'd become. It hurt almost too much to think about- and his disgust at himself only grew with each passing day. Even though the logical part of his brain knew that running away from his problems wasn't possible, the other side kept whispering _what if, what if, what if._ What if he ran to Gallica and never came back? What if he never saw Halt again? Maybe he could start his life over again. Maybe he could find a new family.

Then, small but powerful, a niggling thought in the back of his head. _If you want to get away from all your problems,_ it said, _all you have to do is climb to the highest tower in the castle and jump._

"Such heroic actions," King Duncan said, interrupting Will's thoughts, "from all of you. You shall all be rewarded for your actions...Halt, Horace, Will."

Halt bowed his head. Horace was stammering.

"Thank you for your generosity, your majesty," Will stammered out, cursing his tongue, "but I...cannot accept a reward." He knew by now that 'reward' meant 'public acknowledgement' and couldn't think of anything he wanted less.

"Now, Will, it does credit to the Ranger Corps that they have such a humble apprentice, but you've done a great thing! You deserve a reward!"

 _I didn't do anything,_ he thought bitterly. _Cassandra was the one who saved my life._ "I'm sorry, my King, but I cannot. It's..." he desperately searched for a way out and found one. "It's not the Ranger way."

Crowley coughed, the kind of cough that would be a laugh if you weren't trying to hide it. Gilan, who'd arrived a few hours before, choked. Horace gave Will a frantic _don't backtalk the King!_ look.

And Halt? Halt just gave Will a deadly glare that said something along the lines of _you're going to regret this later._ Will reminded himself that there were many high-ranking officials present and it would not be becoming for him to sink underneath the table.

"Halt, Crowley, is...that an actual rule?" Duncan asked slowly.

"No," the two Rangers replied, Halt adding, "he just really hates public speaking and tries to get out of it at every opportunity. It's a bad habit for a Ranger to have, to be sure."

Although that was one of Will's reasons for refusing the King, it was not the primary one. Will sensed Halt knew that, too. _Why is he covering for me?_

Will bowed his head. "My apologies, my King. You're very generous and I'm grateful, but I don't wish for any gift to be bestowed on me. I've only done my duty." _If you can call getting addicted your duty._

"Nonsense," the King said. "I'm sorry to go against your wishes, Will, but you've done a great thing and you should receive something for it." Will could feel Halt's glare burning into his skull. It was unnerving, to say the least, and Will was starting to wish he hadn't said anything. It didn't seem like it had made a difference, in any case.

"If that is your will, your majesty," Will said, knowing he'd lost the fight.

"Excellent. Now that that's taken care of, I think that's all that was necessary. You may go."

The three Rangers stood up and bowed, Will hastily doing the same, and tailed along after them. When he saw Halt still looked annoyed, he very carefully edged to the other side of Gilan, who was still attempting to stifle his laughter.

"What?" Will muttered irritably at his friend.

Gilan shook his head, still laughing. "Halt _hates_ it when his apprentices refuse what he thinks are their dues. Gets all overprotective and mother-henny."

Gilan hit the ground with a pained thud. Halt stopped walking, turning his glare to his former apprentice. Laughter only renewed, the young Ranger slowly got up, not at all intimidated by his former master. "Should've known that was coming," he said ruefully, rubbing his ankle. "I think you bruised my shin, Halt."

Halt muttered something under his breath.

Despite himself, Will started laughing, too.


	8. Chapter 8

The four Rangers plus Horace were all fit into two adjacent suites- Gilan, Will, and Horace in one, and Halt and Crowley in the other (Halt had tried to get in the same one as Will, but neither Horace nor Gilan wanted to room with Crowley). Thankfully, there were three bedrooms per suite plus a bunch of other assorted rooms, so space was of no concern.

As Will walked into the room that'd be his for the length of his stay there at the palace, he could only stare. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept on an actual bed. When he'd been enslaved, the only thing he'd gotten in the form of bedding was a piece of sackcloth. In the hunting lodge with Cassandra, he'd slept on the floor, too; even when he'd gotten back in Hallasholm, he'd never really slept on a bed. Skandian 'beds' were basically just rough pallets.

"Ah, aren't we living the life?" a voice behind him asked. Will fought his instinctive flinch and turned to see Gilan, arms full of pillows, grinning down at him. "Y'know, almost makes me wish I was Ranger Commandant so I could stay in here."

Will grinned but stopped, looking at the multitudes of pillows the Ranger was carrying. "...Gilan, where'd you get all those pillows?"

The older man gave him a guilty look. "Uh...from Halt and Crowley's beds?"

"They're gonna kill you," Will said.

Gilan waved a hand dismissively. "What could they do to me, as old as they are? Their old bones couldn't take me on if they trie-" a knife whizzed by them, embedding itself into the upholstery in front of Gilan and taking a piece of his shirt with it.

"What was that about my old bones?" Crowley, Ranger Commandant, asked. He hefted his saxe knife in his hand. If he was trying to intimidate Gilan and Will, he was certainly succeeding. "And, Gilan, why did you take my pillows? You should've taken Halt's."

"Oh, I did. But I didn't want it to look like I was playing favorites so I took yours, too."

Will fought a smile tugging up the corner of his lips. It was impossible to keep serious for long when Gilan was around- it honestly made Will wonder how the fun-loving Gilan had survived five years' apprenticeship with the taciturn and withdrawn Halt.

"I see." Crowley sheathed his knife and walked over, pulling his other out of the furniture with a sigh. "You're paying for this, by the way. And, next time, clue me in on this, alright? It would've been so much more fun to see Halt's reaction if I wasn't worrying about my pillows, too."

"What did Halt do?" Gilan inquired eagerly. Crowley gave him a grin and sheathed his other knife.

"If you listen closely, you can still hear him screaming in rage. The castle staff are all beside themselves with fear."

"Bet they're scared an eight foot tall, fire-breathing Halt's gonna come out and gobble them up," Will commented.

The three shared a laugh before Crowley sobered up. "All right, Gilan, pillows." He held out his hands and the other man begrudgingly dropped three of them into his waiting Commandant's arms. A second later, the door of the suite shut without the slightest sound.

Gilan turned to Will. "Uncanny, right? I thought I was good at unseen movement, but he's even better with silent movement than I am."

Will grinned. "Then there's me, good at basically nothing." Despite the smile, he couldn't keep a trace of bitterness out of his tone.

"Aw, Will, don't be so hard on yourself." Gilan shifted the other three pillows he was holding to pat Will on the shoulder comfortingly. "You're only in your second year, after all. Which reminds me; you've missed your assessment again, haven't you? Shouldn't you be coming up on your third year, soon?"

Will nodded.

"And you've never been formally assessed." Gilan let out a whistle. "Well, the next Gathering's coming up in three or four months or so. You'll be- Will, what's wrong?"

It wasn't until Gilan said that that the boy realized he was gripping the edge of a sofa so tightly his knuckles were white. He refused to look up at Gilan, and in a flash, the young Ranger understood. "It's because you've been in Skandia all this time, isn't it?"

Will nodded again, this time shakily. He wondered why he was so willing to volunteer information to Gilan and realized it was probably because he trusted his friend not to dig any deeper than he had to. "Halt says my aim's back to where it was, but this will be what should've been my third assessment. I'm nowhere near a third year's skill. I...I think I'm going to have to take the entire year over."

Gilan slung a comforting arm around the much shorter boy. "You still have a few more months until the Gathering. And, to be honest," he leaned in and stage-whispered, "the third year assessment isn't that hard to pass."

Will gave him a skeptical look.

"Honest! I mean, yeah, they change it up every year, but the final assessment's the only one to get hung up on. They just wanna see that you're making progress, and you still have a few months. Besides, I'm sure they'll go easy on you this year. It's not everyone that can say they spent a year in Skandia, after all!" Seeing that Will wasn't convinced, he tried again. "Look, Will, if you're still worried, I can teach you a little myself while we're here. Halt's a better archer than me, but I've always been better at unseen movement. Plus, I could help you with that double knife defense thing, if you want!"

Seeing Gilan's hopeful, pleading glance, Will couldn't help but feel bad. Here was one of his friends just trying to help, and the boy didn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't even sure if he'd ever become a Ranger for several different reasons, so Gilan shouldn't waste his time on a hopeless cause like Will. Instead, he just nodded and murmured a, "thanks, Gilan."

"All right!" Gilan grinned. "Let me put Halt's pillows in a safe place, and then we'll get started."

* * *

A few days passed. Countless celebrations went on in the King's court, but after going to the first one and realizing it was just what amounted to a court meeting, Will stopped attending. In the mean time, Gilan resolutely began to tutor Will in double knife defense and unseen movement. His teaching style was uncannily like Halt's, as Will had discovered in Celtica, although in some ways Will liked Halt's better. He couldn't deny, however, that Gilan's teaching in melee defense techniques were much better than Halt's.

As for archery, there wasn't much Gilan could say other than to just keep practicing. Privately, the Ranger thought that Will was better than he'd been as a third year, despite Will's lack of training. The boy was a natural at archery and would probably end up being a fair bit better than Gilan. However, although his archery might've already been at third year passing level, his movement was rusty at best. Although he hadn't forgotten anything Halt had taught him, a year without the means to practice it to any extent had taken its toll.

"Will," Gilan said, "no offense, but I could probably track you with my eyes closed."

Will huffed, obviously not taking Gilan's 'no offense' to heart. "All right," he said, annoyance leaching out of his voice suddenly, "what am I doing wrong?"

Gilan was tempted to snark back, Halt-style, _what are you doing right?_ but refrained. Will seemed more fragile now, less like the vibrant, curious boy he'd gotten to know in Celtica. "You're not doing anything _wrong,_ exactly. A normal, unsuspecting person wouldn't be able to see you, but your technique is rusty. You're putting too much thought into it." He considered. "Here, this might help. I know Halt's always told you to move like you know someone's watching you, but it's making you tense up. The extra tension is being released through your body, and it's making you move stiffly. Yes, you need to be aware that someone's watching you, but if you tense up, it'll only make it easier for them to track you."

Will nodded thoughtfully, mulling over his words. "All right, I'll try that."

Gilan gave him a good-natured glare. "You'd better do more than just try it!"

Will didn't reply. He took a couple long, deep breaths and Gilan saw his tension eke away. Furrowing his brow, he wondered if maybe Will's tension wasn't because he knew Gilan was watching him. He seemed to remember Will being that tense earlier that day...and yesterday...and the day before. It was almost like Will was constantly scared of something. But what?

He shook away the thought. He'd think about it later; right now, he needed to watch Will.

"A little better," he called after a few seconds. "Look to your left."

Will hesitated and looked back at him, uncertain.

Gilan raised his eyes to heaven. "Is it really that hard?"

The boy complied, looking over to his left. "I don't see anything special."

Gilan held in a sigh. "That's because you're not looking. Look. What do you see?"

He hesitated. Unsure of whether he was right or not, he just gave a helpless shrug. Gilan frowned at the movement, then offered encouragingly, "Go on. I'm not Halt, I won't judge if you get it wrong. Well...maybe a little. But only a little."

"I...I guess I see the grass rippling in the wind? There isn't much shade right there, so there's not really any place to hide."

"And that," Gilan said dramatically, "is where you're wrong." Stepping forward, he motioned to the grass. "You're used to seeing patterns and ripples in light and shade, right? Well, this is kinda the same idea. Just like you can learn to become one with the patterns, you can learn to time your movement with the wind. It's really helpful when you're going across a grassy plain or something that doesn't offer much cover."

"What if there's no wind, though? How am I going to remain undetected, then?"

Gilan gave him a grin. "That's why we teach you archery."

* * *

"So, any news about when the King is going to be kind enough to reward you three and send us on our way already?" Gilan inquired.

Halt shook his head. "Not yet. It's frustrating, but we just need to wait. It's already been two weeks, so I hope to God they don't make us wait much longer." Halt's eyes widened in a sudden realization. "Who was taking care of Redmont fief in my absence? I never asked."

Gilan offered him a small smile. "That'd be me, Halt. I got Crowley to stick a newly-fledged Ranger on mine while I took care of Redmont. I knew you'd rather have had me than the newbie."

"Knowing you, I'm not sure he'd have done a worse job taking care of it." Halt hesitated. "But I'm glad it was you. You at least know your way around the place."

Gilan grinned, knowing his former mentor was trying to thank him in his own way. "That's all the thanks I get? I'll have you know, my fief was languishing without my care."

"You should've told Crowley to retrain him, then," Halt said dryly, "if the rookie couldn't handle a quiet fief like yours." Halt scratched his beard, a trifle awkwardly. "Gil, I appreciate it. You're right in saying I would've rather you took over it than most anyone else."

The younger Ranger's grin grew wider. "I do declare, Halt, you're getting soft in your old age!"

"If you know what's good for you..." Halt threatened.

Gilan cut him off with a wave of his hand, suddenly done with joking around. "Enough of that, though. You probably know this already, but I've been tutoring Will in unseen movement lately."

Halt nodded, waiting for Gilan to get to the point. Obviously, he'd known from the very first day what his two apprentices were doing.

"I'm...worried about him."

One of Halt's eyebrows raised, but inside he felt a sense of dread. It seemed he wasn't the only one who'd noticed it, then. After such a long time trying to find out what had happened to his apprentice, he'd almost given up. Now...

"-you really think Will is going to be able to pass his third year assessment?"

Disappointment lanced through the grizzled Ranger's chest. Gilan hadn't been talking about that, after all. "Not right now, no," Halt said evenly, "but give him five month's more training and we've a chance. It's going to be hard, making up for over a year's negligence with less than half a year's time. I know Will can do it, though. He's a smart boy." He didn't add his fears: that the oddities he'd noticed in Will might affect his basic functions and impede his training; that Will might push forward in training but would leave a part of himself behind in the process.

"I know that look, Halt. You always have that expression when you're about to add a _but."_

"But," Halt said heavily, looking at Gilan, "Will's changed. His archery is excellent, especially for his age, and with enough time, I could bring his knife skills and unseen and silent movement skills up to par. But what concerns me is..."

"It's how quiet he's become lately, isn't it?"

Halt stared at Gilan, surprised. "So you have noticed it."

"At first, I thought he was just tired, but now that I've been training him for a few weeks, I can see it's not that. His natural curiosity is gone. He still asks questions, of course, but he doesn't really seem like he means them anymore. And he seems tense all the time, like he's afraid of something."

That had been one thing Halt hadn't noticed, but it definitely didn't do anything to ease his suspicions about Will. "It's not just that," Halt added quietly. "It's gotten better, but right after we reunited in Skandia, he was extremely hesitant and slow to think. His brain was even slower than Horace's. And..."

"What is it, Halt?" Gilan asked after a long silence. Halt hesitated a few seconds more, then spoke.

"I overheard the Princess and Will talking one night. I probably only heard the tail-end of their conversation, but Will..."

 _"Halt wouldn't be this screwed up," Will said quietly. Despite himself, Halt leaned in towards the door to listen. After all, it was practically in a Ranger's job description to eavesdrop, so it wasn't like Halt wasn't used to spying on people._

 _"Stop holding yourself up to Halt. You're not even full-grown, and Halt's, well, Halt._ _I'm sure he's had his share of tough times, too, and had to learn to deal with them just like you."_

 _"But a Ranger-"_

 _"Will. Rangers are human, too. They might not show it, but I'm sure they've gone through bad stuff, and they just learned to live with it. You need to do that, too."_

 _His apprentice didn't respond for a while, and Halt frowned. He disliked being held up as the model standard for how one should act. Yes, he'd admit he was good at what he did, but he was also quite a bit different from Will. Not to mention the fact that both of them acted like he was completely invincible, immune to petty weaknesses like nightmares. He wasn't, but it was like Cassandra said- he'd learned to live with them._

 _"Stop blaming yourself for everything! None of this was your fault. Nothing that has happened to you was because you were weak."_

 _Another long silence. Halt waited for someone to speak, but when it became clear neither was going to do so, he rapped lightly on the door. He'd come for a very specific reason, and now that he had a glimpse of Will's mental state and the secrets he was trying to hide, Halt had an idea._

 _He had a confession to make._

Halt sighed again. "Will seemed to think he was messed up in some way, and that I wouldn't have been, if I were in his place. Something's obviously wrong with him, but I don't know what it is. I've been asking around for weeks, but nothing. I was honestly about to give up."

"That's a lie, and you know it," Gilan said bluntly. "The Halt I know wouldn't just give up, and he wouldn't take weeks just to get some simple information."

"It's not my fault the Skandians don't tal-"

"Halt. You're a Ranger. I'm sure you could think of some way to scare someone into telling you all they know." Gilan crossed his arms and stared accusingly at his mentor. "Face it, Halt. You haven't found out yet because you don't _want_ to find out."

Angered, the senior Ranger opened his mouth to defend himself, and stopped. With a flash of horror, he realized Gilan was right. He didn't want to know- but he did, at the same time. He bowed his head, acknowledging Gilan's words, and collected himself.

"I...I do want to know."

"But?" Gilan prompted.

"But I'm..." Halt couldn't believe he was saying this. A sarcastic voice in the back of his head whispered something along the lines of _oh, how the mighty have fallen._ "You know how I am. I beat someone up for mouthing off about Horace and Will; I threw two people into moats because they disrespected people I care about. I don't want to know because I'm afraid there'll only be two options left for me once I do."

Gilan stayed silent.

Gathering his courage, Halt finished, "either I'll get so angry at whoever hurt Will that I'll sail to Skandia myself to finish them off, or I'll...I'll be so distraught that I won't be able to do anything except grieve." He cleared his throat. When he looked over at his former apprentice, half expecting to see a smile or a smirk on his face, he was shocked to see Gilan's expression was grave and sad.

"If, after you find out who did it, you want to take that trip to Skandia," he said quietly, firmly, "wait up for me. I'm coming with you."

Halt nodded once.

"However," Gilan continued, "you need to break out of that attitude. Half-assed attempts aren't going to get us anywhere. If you really want to help Will, you need to fully commit, and you need to promise you won't turn your back on him, no matter how bad it is. Because if you do, if you finally get him to allow you in and then turn away when things get rough...you'll destroy him. It doesn't take a genius to see how much he looks up to you."

Privately, Gilan knew it was more than just admiration for his mentor. As Will had never had a father, he would've latched onto the first father-like figure he found, and as far as Gilan could tell, Halt fit the bill for that pretty well. But, as much as Gilan cared for Halt and knew he was cared for back, they'd never put a name to their relationship beyond master and apprentice. Gilan didn't want to mention anything like _father_ or _parent_ to Halt when he didn't know how the older Ranger would receive it.

"I would never turn my back on Will," Halt told him, eyes steely. "I made a promise to him, and I will keep that promise."

"All right," Gilan said, nodding several times, "here's what we're going to do."

* * *

For some reason, this night was turning out to be the worst in Will's life- and that was saying something.

The day had started out alright. Gilan had taught him from dawn until about lunch, then told him to go off and practice by himself for the remainder of the day. Will had instantly gone off on his own towards the archery range.

From the very first few days learning archery, the feeling of releasing an arrow and watching it hurtle towards its target had been comforting to Will, almost cathartic. The routine of _nock, draw, aim, fire_ was so familiar to him it was like coming home to an old friend. Will wouldn't say he loved archery- no, he didn't love it, per se. But it was a part of him that he couldn't take out of him, just like he couldn't take off one of his legs.

In the span of five seconds, he released eight arrows and watched them all fly and land with a thud, every one of them in the center of the target. He allowed himself a small smile. That was another thing he loved about archery; the sense of accomplishment after he completed a difficult or intense shooting spree with excellence. Halt almost never commented on his archery anymore- even before they left for Celtica- but Will knew it was probably just because the gruff old man couldn't find anything wrong with it, so he had nothing to say.

Will released another set of arrows. Doubt settled in as the last one found its mark. Will knew he was better than an average archer, but how much better? He'd never really seen Rangers shoot before. Was it possible that Will wasn't as good as he thought, and that was the reason Halt hadn't said anything? Even as he thought it, he knew it was a stupid thought. Halt was brutally honest. If he thought Will was hopeless, he'd have kicked him out. But, even still, he couldn't help but wonder _what if, what if, what if._ What if Halt didn't want to break the news and was waiting for a Gathering to break it for him? What if...

No. He'd stop right there. Will opened his eyes and bent down to pick up his bow again. It was like Gilan had told him all those months ago. Self-doubt was a disease, and it'd do him no good to let it fester.

But...

Trying to push the thoughts away, he lifted his bow again.

No matter how hard he tried, however, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Was he really as skilled as he thought he was? He knew he was improving with Gilan's teaching, but how far would it go? Glumly, he kicked at the ground, scuffing his shoes. _You might not even have to worry about the warmweed. Maybe you'll just get kicked out because of your lack of skill before that can even come to light._

Suddenly, he didn't feel like shooting anymore. Will walked over to the targets and pulled out his arrows, stuffing them back into his quiver. The familiar chill of his memories was starting to surround him again. He always felt cold when he started thinking about Skandia or about his depression. Will could scarcely remember the last time he'd truly felt warm.

As of late, his mind had kept returning to darker and darker things. The thought he'd had in Duncan's council room about suicide returned to him every day, stronger and stronger. It had gotten to the point that Will was afraid to go into any of the higher towers for fear he'd jump. Heights had never been a thing he feared, but he couldn't help but think that that's how he'd want to die. Something about the crushing impact. And, too, Will knew that once he jumped, there was no coming back from it. No one could save him.

Will bit his lip. _Stop,_ he tried, but he knew it'd do no good.

At first, Will had tried to control his thoughts. He'd tried to stop thinking of suicide. But, as he'd soon found out, the tireder you were, the easier it was to feel sad. And Will was always tired. He still had Erak's sleep meds- although how much longer they'd last, he didn't know- but the constant fear that someone would find out his secret was draining his energy. Especially at night, he felt exhausted, sad, and, recently, like he just didn't want to go on anymore.

Like some unseen power was controlling him, he started walking. He strode past the guards without responding to their friendly greetings, paced through the voluminous halls of Castle Araluen, ran to the top of one of the towers. The whole thing probably took about fifteen minutes, but Will thought it'd been only seconds since he'd left the archery range.

He felt unstable and scared as he stood there, looking down. As much as he'd thought about this over the past few weeks, he knew that this was still a spur of the moment decision. But...Will was fragile and tired. He wanted to go back to Redmont, to tell Halt everything that had happened to him. But he couldn't. At this point, it wasn't even because of who Halt would tell once Will told him, it was how the Ranger would react.

Will didn't want to see the disappointment in his mentor's eyes.

Everything felt like it was crumbling down around him. If Halt found out about the warmweed, Will would get kicked out. If Halt _didn't_ find out about the warmweed, he still risked getting kicked out or forced to redo at least another year because of his lack of skill. Cassandra had turned her back on him after she'd returned to Araluen and Will hadn't even seen Alyss for almost a year and a half. She probably wouldn't like him anymore, either.

A tear leaked out of his eye and he curled into a ball, sobbing.

He wanted to die.


	9. Chapter 9

Will had no idea how long he sat there. Anger, loathing, and hatred at himself swirled around inside his head like icy bird's claws trying to tear him to shreds. He felt empty in a way he'd never felt before; all he knew was he wanted it to stop. He wanted it to stop so badly but he didn't know how, couldn't ever see an end to this, couldn't foresee anything but suffering, black and eternal.

And it scared him to death.

For what seemed like hours, he stared past his knees at the dim interior of the tower. There was something calming about watching the pattern of the stones, and for a while, Will was lost in it. Then, as if pulling himself back into reality, he shook his head and tried to refocus. As he did, the vultures in his thought swarmed down again, murmuring everything they knew would hurt. They spoke of Halt, how he was really just disappointed in Will and would only be more so if he ever found out. They spoke of Gilan and said much the same thing.

They spoke of his utter uselessness, of his brokenness. Of how no one would miss him.

A hollow ache settled into his chest when he realized it was true. Alyss had already lived a year without him; she'd do fine without having him for the rest of her life. Gilan and Horace couldn't possibly mind, either. They both deserved better friends than Will. And Halt...well, Will didn't think Halt really liked him all that much. Yes, he'd made a promise to get Will back and yes, he'd gotten banished for it, but that was just a thing people did for their apprentices.

Somewhere in the back of his head, another voice whispered _liar._

 _But,_ he tried to reason with himself, _even if Halt did care for me, he'd get over it. They all will._

He wasn't really sure why, but he found himself standing up and walking over to the ledge. It didn't occur to him to throw himself over until he was standing there, looking down, down, down. The sheer drop made him dizzy and he swayed.

 _What would it be like to die?_ he wondered. _Would it hurt? Would I feel anything?_ A violent gust of wind buffeted at him, and he held his arms out for balance, but it wasn't enough.

His foot slipped.

His heart stopped.

For a moment, time stopped with it. He fell forwards, arms flailing, dow-

Two pairs of hands latched onto him. Will froze, legs dangling, nothing but a sheer descent below him. He expected to be pulled back- almost _wanted_ to be pulled back, for he'd never intended to jump, just to look. But as seconds passed and nothing happened, he began to wonder what was going on. Then a voice behind him and to the right spoke.

"Well, have you got your fill of staring?"

His heart plummeted as suddenly as if the two pairs of hands had let him go. "H-Halt," he stammered, "I-It was an a-accid-dent, I d-didn't m-m-mean to-"

"I know." His mentor's voice had never sounded so cold. "But I've been watching you for weeks. You might not have done it today, but you would've done it some other day when I wasn't there to stop you. Now, I'll only ask you this once. Do you want us to let you go?"

 _Who is 'us'?_ Will wondered, unsure of who Halt would've asked to come along. Gilan? Horace? Crowley?

"Will."

He looked down again. The soldiers, tiny dots hundreds of meters away, were milling around, completely unsuspecting of what was going on above their heads. The dim light of the sunset cast a haze over the whole scene, making it seem warm and almost homey.

 _Did_ he want to die?

Will bowed his head. "I don't know."

There was a pause. Then both pairs of hands jerked back at the same time and Will fell backwards, landing with an undignified flop on two bodies. The person to his left let out a groan and shoved at Will, who obligingly moved off him, turning around to see who it was.

For the second time in as many minutes, his heart sank. "Gilan?"

For once, the normally cheerful Ranger looked furious. "How stupid are you!?" he screamed, not even attempting to keep his voice down. "You could've died right then and there because of your carelessness!"

Will looked down. He still wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved at the two Rangers' interference. Although he had to say, he was definitely not in for a pleasant conversation now that they'd caught him on a ledge. The mere thought of what Halt would do now made him want to cringe away from the presence at his right.

Gilan crossed his arms. Will looked up at the sound and saw that his friend's face had changed from angry to sad. Somehow, that was worse. "Will, why?"

"I wasn't trying to-" he waved his hand in a gesture that hopefully conveyed what he couldn't bear to say. "I wasn't, I swear. I just...wanted to know what it was like." He gave Gilan a sad little smile. "Guess you could say my curiosity got the better of me."

"Don't start." Halt's voice was still that curiously cold, detached tone Will had never heard him use before. "Don't even try that, Will. The game is over. We've caught you in the act, so would you mind," he stepped dangerously close to Will, face contorting in anger, "telling us what the _hell_ is going on with you!?"

Will couldn't remember the last time Halt had raised his voice at anyone, man or animal. Halt always kept his voice quiet and even- as a true Ranger always should, he'd said- and Will instinctively knew that he'd gotten himself into a very, very bad situation. He shrank backward, terrified, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. Of course, that only served to make Halt even angrier, but this time, Gilan held a hand up to stop him.

"Halt, stop," he muttered. "He's scared to death already. Don't make it worse."

"If he'd maybe stopped to consider his actions-"

"Halt. That's _enough."_

Probably more startled by the fact that his former apprentice had spoken so forcefully to him than by virtue of Gilan's actual command, Halt shut up.

"Will," Gilan tried again, quieter, "you know we're here for you, right? You can tell us anything."

Will shook his head, biting his lip in a desperate attempt to curb the tears threatening to fall. Gilan considered for a moment before gently placing his arm around Will's shoulders and leading him off. "C'mon. Let's get you some coffee and talk about this somewhere safe."

Distantly, Will heard Halt's soft footsteps follow after them.

* * *

 _Six Hours Previously_

"All right. Here's what we going to do." Gilan rubbed his chin. "First, we need to go through and talk to anyone Will might've told something to. I know you've already done that, but it never hurts to try again. Since there are really only two people he would've told- the Princess and Horace- and they'll suspect me less, I'll take care of them."

Halt gave him a dry look. "I wasn't aware that you were the one in charge here."

Gilan didn't respond, a wise decision since Halt still felt unbalanced, like he might snap at the slightest word. Instead, he steadfastly ignored his former mentor's words and continued, "while I do that, I want you to shadow Will. You obviously already know this, but his actions have been increasingly concerning and...I don't want him to do something he'll regret. Once I'm done with Cassandra and Horace, I'll join you."

Halt nodded. Despite his words, he felt an odd sense of gratitude for Gilan's willingness to help. He had to admit that although he normally preferred planning the strategy himself, it was a welcome change to have another Ranger do it instead, especially while Halt was still reeling slightly from Gilan's blunt accusations. It had honestly never occurred to him that he was purposefully stopping himself for fear of what he'd find out about Will, but now that it had, he realized Gilan was right. He was, as stupid as it might sound, afraid of what he'd find out.

Gilan bid him farewell and good luck before slinking away. Halt sighed, stood there a moment longer, then turned, moving almost as softly and as quickly as his former apprentice. If he knew Will at all- and, after Skandia, he wasn't sure he did- he'd be at the archery range.

Turned out, he did know his apprentice. Will arrived at almost the same time Halt did, making a beeline straight to the targets. It almost made Halt grin- even after only having around a year and a half of formal training in archery, Will was already so much better than the King's archers that he was rearranging the targets in order that they'd pose a challenge to him.

It took about six seconds for Will to release his first eight arrows. A bit slow by Halt's standards, but he supposed Will still had another two years to learn. Assuming he passed the assessment, that was. Then a pause. Halt, not able to see what was going on from behind Will, silently moved to the left so he could get a look at Will's face. By the time he'd done so, however, whatever internal monologue the boy had had was over and he'd gone back to shooting.

Then something vaguely uncomfortable and sad flew across Will's face. The boy's eyes darkened and he set his bow down, staring absently at the shooting range he'd been so eager to use just moments before. Halt frowned; what had just happened?

As if trying to clear it of cobwebs, Will shook his head, bent down, and picked the bow back up again. He hesitated, brow furrowing. The conflict raging inside his mind was so strikingly obvious it made Halt wonder if it was like that all the time- if Will had simply gotten that good at hiding it.

If that were so, the depths to which his once-honest apprentice had fallen to were almost too painful to consider.

Will drew his bow again, letting loose another set of arrows, but the boy's mind was clearly preoccupied. His aim and drawing speed were affected enough to be noticeable and Halt fought a wince as one of the arrows landed several centimeters away from the center of the target. Probably seeing that, Will let out a sound of disgust. Kicking at a nearby rock, he made as if to throw his weapon on the ground before thinking better of it, merely walking back towards the targets.

With every minute that passed, Halt became increasingly more concerned. Will's actions couldn't be seen as anything other than self-loathing. The clear disgust, the anger, the despair- now, more than ever, Halt just wanted his question answered.

 _What had happened to Will?_

Suddenly, Will stopped. Eyes narrowing, Halt noticed he was shivering. That was odd. It wasn't even September yet; the day was practically as hot as a furnace. The next moment, Will turned on his heel and strode off, leaving behind a half-dozen arrows still stuck in the target. What was more, his face looked blank and numb, like everything that made him Will had been sucked out, leaving a cold, empty shell.

Will was moving quickly enough that Halt knew he didn't have time to get the arrows. He'd have to come back for them later, hoping that the guards were smart enough to realize that the heavy, grey-shafted arrows were a Ranger's and not any regular archer's.

Halt silently followed Will through the courtyard, up the steps, through the guards. His heart sank lower with every quiet step he took, as he finally realized where Will was going: he was walking straight to one of the highest towers in the castle.

 _Calm down,_ he told himself. _This doesn't mean anything. What if he's just going up there to enjoy the view?_ But the cold feeling in his stomach wouldn't go away. Will's behavior fit Halt's own experiences with suicidal people, and somehow, instinctively, he knew that his apprentice wasn't just walking up for the aesthetics. For a fleeting instant he thought about getting Gilan, but he discarded the thought swiftly. He hadn't the time- who knew how long Will would sit around and deliberate about jumping? Besides, Halt wanted to deal with this by himself. He'd dragged Gilan in far enough.

"Do you have a plan?" a voice whispered next to him.

Halt sighed imperceptibly, wondering how he hadn't sensed Gilan's arrival. _Speak of the devil..._ "I thought you were the one who made the plans," he breathed back, managing to retain a note of sarcasm even at basically nonexistent vocal levels.

Gilan glared at him. "I'm being serious. You do realize what he's going to do once he gets up there, right?" the younger Ranger's gaze flicked beyond to where, over a hundred meters away, the apprentice was slowly ascending a twisting, spiral staircase that led to the top of the tower. He knew that they needed to be careful with how closely they followed behind; too close and Will might notice them, too far and they might not be able to stop him in time.

Halt clenched his jaw. "You don't have to remind me," he snapped, a little louder than he'd intended. Both Ranger's eyes went to Will again to see if he'd heard, but he was as lost in his own world as ever. Halt took a deep breath. The last time he'd lost control like this was- well, also because of Will. The last time he'd lost control, he'd gotten himself banished.

Hopefully, this situation wouldn't end up like that one.

"We might as well move together," Halt finally said wearily. "We could make as much noise as an elephant and he probably wouldn't notice us, not in this state." He considered making a note to bring that up to Will in a later conversation before deciding it'd probably be a little indelicate. "Follow him up; if he tries to jump, we'll pull him back. Don't warn him, though. There's no telling what a desperate person will do once they're caught."

Gilan gave a nod and the two Rangers moved as one after Will, seamlessly blending in and out of the dim shadows cast by the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows of the tower. Although King Duncan's ancestors hadn't neglected defense, they'd definitely gone more for aesthetic appeal than for rock-hard stability and invincibility. That was okay, though, because Duncan's army could easily be counted as one of the best in the world- and no one in the entire world had a force that could match the Rangers, if all of them were gathered together.

Several breathless minutes passed by. Will moved quickly but quietly, as Rangers were trained to do, but even still, Halt guessed there were maybe around a couple hundred steps to get to the stop of the tower. It wasn't surprising that it'd take a while to get to the top. With every minute, however, Halt's nerves frayed just a little bit more around the edges.

He didn't know what was going to happen. He would've liked to say that Will was stronger than that, that he wouldn't just throw himself off a tower in a desperate attempt to end it all, but...Halt knew by now that the Will he'd made his apprentice and the Will he'd saved from Skandia were very different people. Halt didn't know this Will.

That didn't mean that he'd give up on him- no. He'd made a promise both to himself and to the boy. He would give his own life before he let Will throw his own away. He couldn't deny, though, that he wished none of this had ever happened. He wished he'd never sent his apprentice with Gilan to Celtica; he wished he'd been able to stop Erak and his Skandians from taking Will away. He wished Will had never set foot in Skandia. But it wouldn't do him any good to dwell on the what ifs. The only thing that mattered right then was the present, and at present, Will was a serious risk to himself.

Finally, they reached the top of the tower. Will moved towards the arrow slits cut into the walls, simply looking out into the sky. The sun hadn't yet set, but Halt knew it would within the hour.

Surprisingly, Will didn't attempt to climb the battlements; he simply stood there for a moment, staring. Then he turned his back and leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down it and curling into a ball. A single tear slid down his cheek, then, like a dam had broken, he started sobbing.

Without looking in Gilan's direction, Halt held out a hand. "Not yet," he murmured, restraining his own urge to move towards Will. As much as Halt tried to be emotionless, he'd never been able to handle his emotions very well when people he cared about were in trouble. And it was safe to say that Halt cared for Will.

"Halt, you can't possibly just expect me to watch him-"

"I want to see what he does."

Halt could feel Gilan's anger burning into him. His former apprentice was usually so mild-mannered and easy-going; to have him become this angry was another sign of just how serious this was.

"What he's doing right now is _crying,"_ Gilan murmured heatedly, still at a level of sound that was almost impossible to hear. "And you just want me to stand back here and watch him like some kind of sadistic voyeur?"

Halt carefully tried not to think about what kind of strange kink Gilan had just implied one of them had. "Gilan, I don't like having to watch this any more than you do. But if he's caught, he'll be that much harder to catch again, so I want to know exactly what's going on in his head before I make my move. We can't afford to make a mistake here."

Gilan opened his mouth, clearly about to argue some more, when a new sound registered in Halt's ears. Or, more accurately, a new lack of sound. Will had stopped crying.

Careful not to tense up, Halt turned his gaze towards his apprentice, all thoughts of the argument flying out of his head. For a while, though, nothing happened; Will just stared blankly at a spot on the opposing wall, an expression of such abject despondency on his face that Halt had to work to keep his expression neutral and unfazed. Will looked hollow and fragile, a mere specter of who he'd been formerly. It was an almost physical pain to see his apprentice like that.

Then, in one smooth movement as though he'd decided something, Will stood back up and turned to the open ledge. Halt's heart pounded as his apprentice started towards it.

Gilan didn't wait for his signal; he simply moved. Halt followed just as quickly, something akin to fear kindling inside him. They were still a few dozen meters away. How could they reach him in time?

Will stood up on the ledge and looked down. His face was hidden from view, so Halt had no idea what he was thinking. He wondered if the boy had a good head for heights- surely he must, after what he'd done on Choosing Day.

 _Twenty meters._

 _Fifteen meters._

Will swayed.

They were flat-out sprinting now, only their countless years of Ranger training keeping them quiet and undetectable.

 _Ten meters._

Will's foot slipped.

Halt had never known terror this complete. It took everything he had to keep from screaming out _no, Will!_

 _Six meters._

 _Three._

 _Two._

With a sickening finality, Will fell forwards.

Halt covered the last meters in one bound, knowing the waist-high wall the ledge was set on would keep him from toppling over with Will. Gilan must've had the same idea, because the two reached out as one and grabbed him, Halt reaching for the right arm and Gilan for the left. The younger man started trying to pull him back from the ledge but Halt stopped him with a look.

"Well? Have you got your fill of staring?"

Will visibly stiffened, obviously recognizing his voice. He stammered out, "H-Halt, i-It was an a-accid-dent, I d-didn't m-m-mean to-"

Everything inside Halt had gone still when Will had lost his balance on that ledge. He marveled that his heart was still beating. In his chest, in his heart, there was only overwhelming silence. Everything had gone cold inside when he'd seen his apprentice slip, and that ice was reflected when he finally spoke again.

"I know," Halt said. "But I've been watching you for weeks. You might not have done it today, but you would've done it some other day when I wasn't there to stop you. Now, I'll only ask you this once. Do you want us to let you go?"

Gilan's eyes flashed over towards him, clearly surprised at Halt's tone. Halt would've been surprised, too, but he only felt numb. He dimly realized he was probably in shock, but the idea was so ridiculous he didn't want to think about it- he, a senior Ranger, traumatized because his apprentice decided to take a nice stroll up some tower. Except it wasn't just some nice stroll and Will wasn't just his apprentice.

"Will." His tone was ice; his body was ice. He felt cold all over. He didn't want to admit that he was scared what Will would say. Was there any way Halt could possibly respond if Will said yes?

Will bowed his head. "I don't know," he said quietly. Defeatedly.

Halt clenched the piece of Will's shirt he was holding. Did Will truly not know, or was he just saying that to throw Halt off his scent? A year ago, Halt would've said the former, but now...

In one smooth tug, he and Gilan pulled Will back over, but they overestimated how much momentum they needed and Will ended up on top of them. Gilan let out a groan and Will rolled off him, which unfortunately meant that he rolled onto Halt.

"Gilan?" Will asked, apparently not even noticing who he was currently on top of. Halt slid out from underneath the boy in one quiet movement.

"How stupid are you!?" Gilan screamed. "You could've died right then and there because of your carelessness!" Halt realized that he'd never heard Gilan speak that way before, and he'd been around the man since he was a teenager. Halt nudged the other Ranger warningly, not knowing if something would set Will off. Sighing, Gilan crossed his arms, anger melting away. "Will, why?"

And that was the crux of the matter.

 _Why?_

"I wasn't trying to-" Will waved his hand in a gesture that hopefully conveyed what he couldn't bear to say. "I wasn't, I swear. I just...wanted to know what it was like. Guess you could say my curiosity got the better of me."

Again, that overwhelming silence inside of Halt. "Don't start," he said, voice clear and cold in a tone that almost scared even him. "Don't even try that, Will. The game is over. We've caught you in the act, so would you mind telling us what the _hell_ is going on with you!?" By the end of the sentence he was near a shout, louder than he remembered speaking in months- and before then, years. Will shrank back, obviously terrified, but Halt wasn't done yet. He opened his mouth to say something more, but Gilan interrupted.

"Halt, stop. He's scared to death already. Don't make it worse."

 _He scared_ me _to death, he has no right-_ Halt closed his eyes, desperately trying to gain control of himself. For someone famous for their lack of emotion, he decided he still had far too much of it for his own comfort. "If he'd maybe stopped to consider his actions-"

"Halt. That's _enough."_

He stared at Gilan, shocked, and obligingly closed his mouth.

"Will," Gilan said, quieter now, "you know we're here for you, right? You can tell us anything."

 _Like that's going to get us anywhere,_ he scoffed silently. _I already tried that._ Will shook his head, vision blurring. Gilan slid an arm around the shaking boy's shoulders, gently leading him off without even a backwards glance towards Halt. "C'mon. Let's get you some coffee and talk about this somewhere safe."

Halt followed behind, not attempting to hide but not wanting to get too close to Will, either. He still had no idea what he was feeling. He couldn't remember any time he'd ever felt this...terrified? Shocked? Angry? Grief-stricken? A mix of all four?

 _Yes,_ he decided grimly, _I'd say all four right now._ He wanted, very badly, to talk to Will by himself, but he also wasn't sure if he'd be the best person to talk to right now- or at all, really. Halt had had a few heart-to-hearts with Will in the year and a half of his apprenticeship, and suffice to say, they hadn't gone over that well. Halt simply wasn't a heartfelt person. It wasn't that he didn't feel- he certainly did- he just had no idea how to express those feelings, and usually didn't even want to.

About thirty minutes later, they'd finally made it back to their rooms. With a quiet motion from Halt, they ended up in his room instead of Will and Gilan's- there was no telling if Horace was in there or not, and Halt didn't think Will would want the young cadet to know what was going on. Crowley, of course, was just as likely to be in Halt's room, but as the Ranger Commandant, he deserved to know at least the bare bones of one of his Ranger's mental health issues- even if that person wasn't technically a Ranger, yet.

"Gilan," Halt said, finally snapping back into command, "go make some coffee. I'll get him situated."

Gilan gave him a semi-suspicious look but nodded and started off into the mini-kitchenette that their suite, thank God, had come equipped with. Let it never be said King Duncan didn't know how to properly treat his guests.

Now that Gilan was gone and Halt hadn't seen Crowley (although that wasn't really saying much, knowing the Ranger as he did), he decided to focus on Will. The boy was shaking- no, shivering. Halt had noticed him doing the same thing earlier at the archery range and wondered if it was something left over from his time in Skandia. His hands were trembling so hard he had to clench them into fists to still them, and his skin was a pale, deathly white.

It was like looking at a corpse.

The thought nauseated Halt so much he had to look away for a second. Now that the shock had finally started to wear off, the fear was starting to seep in- Will could've, would've died if they hadn't been there to stop him. Will _would_ have been a pale, dead corpse.

"Will," Halt tried gently. His voice cracked. "Will," he tried again, and this time it shook. "Sit down." The boy obeyed instantly. Halt sat down next to him- several inches away, so Will wouldn't feel crowded- and attempted another question. "Are you cold?" This time, he was proud to note, his voice stayed strong except for a wobble at the end.

Will gave him a confused look. Halt nodded to his hands. "You're shivering so much that your entire body is quaking. Is that a normal reaction, or is it something new?"

"I-i-it's new."

Even his teeth were chattering. Halt pursed his lips and stood up, grabbing a couple of blankets before returning. "Here."

"T-t-thanks, Halt."

Halt gave a noncommittal grunt. "You might not want to do that just yet. I still have questions I want to ask you."

Will looked down. "Oh. Right."

Gilan returned just then with three cups of coffee. Halt gratefully accepted his. It burned into his hands but he didn't care- he needed something to ground him.

"Do you want me to start, or shall I, Halt?" Gilan asked quietly.

Halt looked at Will, then back at Gilan, and hesitated. He admitted that he wanted to be the one doing the questioning, but at the same time, Gilan tended to get better results in situations where diplomacy was necessary. Since Halt didn't particularly want to go through standard interrogation techniques with Will (especially since, as he'd missed out on his third year, he wouldn't have even been trained in them yet), it might be a better idea to have Gilan do it.

Halt shrugged, looking at Will. "Who would you rather have ask the questions, Will?" Might as well give him some semblance of control in the situation; Halt had learned that control, or lack of it, was a huge part of mental illnesses, so if gaining a little of it would help settle him...

Will bit his lip before answering quietly, "I want you, Halt."

He blinked, honestly thrown. He'd been fully expecting Will to pick the more lenient, friendly option; not the one that had gone from iceberg to volcano in two seconds flat just a few minutes earlier. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I won't go easy on you."

"I know. That's- I know. I-I trust you, Halt." Will curled in on himself. The misery on his face stung the newly formed scabs on Halt's heart like acid. "I'm tired of lying. If- if this gets me..." the last part was murmured so quietly even Halt's excellent hearing couldn't pick it out.

"What was that, Will?" he asked, hopefully gently.

"If this gets me kicked out of the Ranger Corps," Will said quietly, "then I guess I deserved it. It was my fault, anyway."

"Will," Gilan said, "what are you talking about?"

Will stared at his hands, still trembling in the warm firelight. "I guess I'll start at the beginning, then."


	10. Chapter 10

Will sighed heavily. Where could he even begin? There was so much to say, and most any of it could either endanger his stay in the Ranger Corps or his relationship with the two Rangers near him, Halt sitting at his right and Gilan in a chair right in front of him.

"I believe you said something about starting at the beginning," Halt prompted, sounding a little impatient.

Will closed his eyes. He wished none of this had happened. He wished he hadn't gotten on that stupid ledge or even walked up to the tower- but, now that he thought about it, that would've only extended his time a little. Halt said he'd been watching Will, and sooner or later, Will knew his master would've snapped. But...

 _No use in buts,_ he reminded himself.

"Which one?" he asked, trying to buy himself time.

Halt looked like he was about to reach over and strangle him, so Will carefully scooted away, although he knew the extra centimeters wouldn't do anything if Halt really wanted to hurt him. If Will had learned anything during his apprenticeship, it was that once Halt decided he wanted to do something, there was precious little anybody could do to stop him.

"Will, stop stalling," Gilan said. "You're only going to end up drawing it out in the end; we're not going anywhere until you tell us everything."

 _Everything._ Will fought a shudder at the thought. Yes, he hated lying to them. Yes, every day of it had felt like ripping out some vital part of himself and throwing it away, but now the lies had become just as much a part of Will as his honesty once had been. It was getting harder and harder to want to tell the truth. "Well," he said dully, "is there anything in particular you'd like to know first? I don't really want to go through the whole story again."

Halt gave him a look that said _you will tell us the whole story again, and you'll do it quickly unless you want something bad to happen to you._ Gilan gave Halt a warning glare, and the older Ranger subsided. His tone was still low and dangerous when he spoke, though. "Since we _did_ just save you from falling off a very tall tower, would you mind telling us what, exactly, gave you the idea that standing on that ledge in the first place would be a good idea?"

Will tugged his blanket a little tighter around himself. "I...I wasn't really thinking straight," he confessed. When the sarcastic remark he expected from Halt failed to come, he continued, "everything felt blurred, like I was drunk or-" he stopped himself. He wouldn't, couldn't bring himself to say _warmweed._ Not yet. Every second that passed, he wanted to tell them about it less.

"And I suppose you've been drunk enough times to know how it feels, hm?" Halt questioned.

Gilan shot him a glare. "Not helping," he muttered.

"I just wanted to see. I wanted to see what it felt like."

Halt's expression was unreadable, but Will thought he saw a flash of...understanding? But how could Halt understand about something like that? He must've seen wrong. "And now that you've almost died because of it, what do you think?"

Will searched Halt's face but it was impossible to tell what kind of answer he wanted. "I...don't know."

The Ranger raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?" he repeated.

Will shook his head miserably, hunching in on himself further. The coffee Gilan had gotten him was sitting on the table in front of him, completely untouched. He thought about picking it up but decided against it. He didn't want to move.

"I don't know what I feel right now," he admitted lowly, ashamed to even say so. Surely he'd see Halt and Gilan's derisive, scornful faces if he looked up now. Surely he'd see the contempt in their eyes.

"That's normal," Halt said...gently? "You're in shock right now. Your mind hasn't finished processing what's happened to you yet."

"It's certainly taking its sweet time," Will muttered. Like with every other time his brain seemingly malfunctioned, he blamed it on the warmweed.

"Not really. It can take several hours for shock to wear off fully," Gilan said comfortingly. "It's like a defense mechanism your brain sets up to keep you safe while it attempts to make sense of things."

Will nodded slowly.

"Now, do you want to tell us what made you want to do all this in the first place?" Halt's tone was still gentle, but Will sensed that it wasn't a question. It was a command.

He risked a look at Gilan. Telling Halt was one thing, but telling Halt _and_ Gilan was a whole other one. He had come to think of Gilan almost as a friend, as strange as it sounded, and he was just as worried about Gilan's reaction as he was about Halt's. Telling two people at once...

"I can leave, if you want," Gilan offered suddenly, looking from Will to Halt. "You're the only one who has to be here; after all, you're his master, not I." _Not for much longer, once they find out,_ Will thought glumly, but nodded when the two Rangers looked over at him.

"I'm sorry, Gilan," he mumbled, "it's nothing personal."

"Don't worry, I get it." Gilan offered him a smile. "If you ever want to tell me later, I'll always be open to talk with you, okay?" Without waiting for a response, he stood and strode away.

"Will?" Halt asked a few seconds later.

"...I don't want to."

"I know you don't want to," Halt's voice took on a sterner note, "but you have to. I'm not going to know how to help you if you won't tell me what happened to you in the first place."

A pause, then... "What if I don't want your help?"

"That may be," Halt said evenly, not at all perturbed, "but you'll still get it. I will not stand quietly by and watch you destroy yourself any longer."

Despite himself, Will cringed. "I'm- I'm not-"

"Would you like to explain to me, then, how constant self-loathing, self-hatred, and clear suicidal tendencies, along with becoming withdrawn, quiet, and very unlike your usual self, can _not_ be described as destroying yourself?"

Unable to come up with a response, Will just sat there. He hadn't realized just how much Halt had been watching him. If Halt weren't his master, Will would probably think of him as a stalker. "Halt, I..."

"Will. I know you don't want to, but you need to." When Will didn't respond, only pulling his blanket tighter around himself, Halt hesitated. What was it Gilan had told him? _"...he seems tense all the time, like he's afraid of something."_ He glanced over at his apprentice, huddled into a ball, shivering.

"Will, what are you afraid of?"

"W-what? I'm- I'm not..."

Trying not to lose his patience, Halt said, "You've been shivering since you got in here. You're stiff as a rod right now. Obviously you're tense for some reason, and I can't think of anything other than that something about this is scaring you to death."

"I don't...don't..." Will ducked his head to hide the tears coming to his eyes, but the action was futile. Halt could see it plain as day. "I don't want you to..."

And he understood. Carefully, Halt said, "You're scared of how I'll react, aren't you?" it was more a statement than a question, but Will nodded anyway, almost against his will.

"I don't want you to be disappointed in me," he mumbled.

"Will," Halt said softly, "I don't know what you did, but you'd have to do something awful for me to ever be disappointed in you."

"That's what I did, though. Something a-awful."

"Well, you won't know how I'll react until you tell me," Halt said mildly. "It's better to get it over with than to wallow in uncertainty and self-pity."

Will closed his eyes. Finally, he said, so quietly Halt had to strain to hear him, "The reason being a slave in Skandia was so bad wasn't...wasn't because they overworked us. It wasn't because of the freezing conditions we had to sleep in with only a sack as bedding. It wasn't because of the food." He smiled, but it was a sad, bitter smile. "Or lack of it."

Halt stayed silent, knowing that interrupting now would do more harm than good.

"They...they had a way of controlling us," Will said, and his voice went below a whisper. He coughed, winced, and kept going. "More than one, really. The first was a group of slaves called the Committee. Basically, it was an elite group of slaves that assigned tasks to their underlings each day. They...you didn't want to get on their bad side." Will stopped again and lifted his gaze to a portrait of King Duncan hanging on the opposite wall.

"You got on their bad side." It wasn't a question at all this time, but Will nodded again.

"They were bullying someone else. I was new there, didn't know about the hierarchy- and maybe if I had, I wouldn't have done what I did. I don't know. I got in the way, told them to stop. The next day, I got the paddles."

 _He's trembling more,_ Halt noticed with concern, wanting to reach over and steady the boy's hands. But there was no telling how he'd react, and Halt didn't want to risk it.

"The paddles are basically a punishment for slaves. You have to turn these heavy, wooden handles to keep the ice from freezing the water over. It's cold and wet and awful. No slave can survive longer than a few hours per shift." He sighed. "I got two shifts in one day, once. They woke me up at four in the morning for my first, and the second was in the afternoon, once they'd considered me 'rested' enough."

 _He's stalling._ Halt's lips tightened but, once again, he said nothing. After all, he was still learning about Will's slavery, even if it wasn't what he wanted to know right at that moment. Still, though...what Will was describing already seemed bad enough. How much worse could this get? And what could Will have done to make him that scared of being caught? Surely he must know that Halt would hardly condemn him for killing one of the overseers. Hell, Halt wanted to kill all of them himself. Painfully.

"That night, after my second shift, I was..." he stopped, furrowing his brow. "I...can't really remember. I was just so, so cold. That's really all I remember of that night...all I remember of every night after that. For months. This person stopped in front of me as I was shivering in the slaves' shelter, and he put something in my mouth. He said it'd make me warm. And I was so cold. I knew I was about to get hypothermia, and there wasn't anything I could do to make myself warm. I didn't question his presence, didn't fight him off." He ducked his head, tears shining on his cheeks. "I'm- I'm so sorry, Halt."

"Sorry?" Halt asked incredulously. "For what?"

"For not being strong enough to stop him. It...it was a drug. He drugged me." Will swallowed. His shivering was even worse now, so much so that it was alarming. "You want to know what he gave me? It was warmweed. He got me addicted to warmweed, and I was too weak to stop him!"

Silence. Will's fragile voice sounded shrill and loud in the quiet of the room.

Halt's eyes widened. _That_ was what he'd been hiding? A drug addiction? He'd expected a lot of things, but not that. "Will..."

"Evanl- Cassandra said I was like a zombie," he continued, fervidly. "I couldn't- couldn't think, couldn't talk, I was a mindless thrall. Erak walked by one day, s-saw me in the yard. He arranged an escape for us because he knew...he knew I wouldn't survive another month." Will sighed, his earlier energy suddenly spent. "Cassandra later told me that it wasn't the cold that would've killed me. It was the drug."

"What..." Halt had to force the next words out through the ringing in his ears. "What happened next?"

"Cassandra broke me out of the yard," Will said hollowly. "Bribed the guards, dragged my body through the snow for hours. She somehow managed to get me to stay on the pony Erak had gotten for us until we got to the hunting lodge. Once we were there..." Nausea curdled in Will's stomach; he forced it down. "Once we were there, she spent the next several weeks trying to wean me off of it. Erak gave her a small supply of warmweed. Warmweed...it's different from a normal drug.

"Warmweed...addicts...build up a physical dependence on the drug. If you cut them off all at once, they'll..." Will shuddered. "The first time Cassandra refused to give me any more, she said I went hysterical. I was screaming and crying...I only stopped after she gave me more. If she hadn't, who knows what would've happened to me. In the weeks following, she slowly weaned me off the drug. She said that for the weeks I was addicted, I didn't move, didn't talk, didn't acknowledge anyone or anything unless it was the warmweed."

With a heavy sigh, Will turned back to Halt. "Once I finally broke free, I spent the remaining time trying to build my strength back up, until the thaw came and Evanl- Cassandra got captured. And that's...that's the real story of what happened."

Halt stared at his hands. Horribly, it made sense: it explained his closeness with Cassandra, the only one who knew his secret. It explained his slow processing when he was newly weaned off the drug. It explained everything. Halt knew without a doubt that this was the truth. As awful as it was, it was the truth.

He felt faintly nauseous and had to fight off an enormous wave of guilt that threatened to encompass him. _This was all my fault._

"...Halt?" Will asked timidly.

Halt opened his eyes. "Yes, Will?"

"Aren't...aren't you going to report this to Crowley?"

Torn from his troubled thoughts, Halt stared at him. "Why ever would I do that? This is none of his business." Then, pausing, he added, "unless you want him to know."

"No!" Will cried, more forcefully than he'd intended. When Halt raised an eyebrow, he flushed. "No...I just...isn't this against the rules?"

A niggling suspicion began to form inside Halt's head. "No, I don't believe 'don't become addicted to warmweed' is written anywhere in our rules, Will," he said mildly. "In fact, I don't recall there being any rules. We're simply expected to act like the rest of the kingdom, maybe with a _little_ more leniency towards the law."

Will looked so profoundly relieved that Halt frowned. "Don't tell me...you didn't want to tell me because you were afraid you were breaking a _rule?"_

Will stared at his hands.

Halt fought the urge to shake his apprentice. "All this time you didn't tell me because you thought you were going to get in trouble? Come on, Will! It's not like we were going to kick you out!"

When Will didn't respond, Halt suddenly felt sick. "You thought we were going to expel you from the Corps."

"Eva- Cassandra suggested it. She said you weren't...forgiving. You," Will made a hasty hand gesture, "you as in the Corps. Not you in particular."

"She said we weren't forgiving," Halt repeated.

"I couldn't risk it," Will said, words all rushing together in a jumble. "I couldn't risk being expelled from the only thing I've ever been good at, leaving Redmont fief...leaving you. I finally felt like I belonged somewhere, with you and T-Tug and Abelard and I couldn't- couldn't-"

Halt expected Will to lunge forward and hug him, but the shivering, crying boy didn't move. Halt realized why a moment later: he hadn't yet said what he thought about the whole debacle with the warmweed.

Will was too scared to budge.

Halt scooted over on the couch towards Will and gently cradled the boy in his arms. He held Will there, waiting until the sobs had subsided somewhat. Then he spoke. "Will, you remember when I said you'd have to do something awful for me to ever be disappointed in you?"

Will nodded reluctantly, head still buried in Halt's chest.

"Would you like to tell me what was so awful about what you did?"

"I t-told you already," Will mumbled. "I was too weak, a-and-"

"Oh, really? Because I don't see anything weak about your selfless comforting of the Princess, your unrelenting determination to escape with Cassandra, your resolve to keep going even when you were forced into brutal slavery that killed full-grown men."

"But the warmweed-"

"You were taken advantage of," Halt said softly. "You were freezing and exhausted and whoever gave that drug to you knew that. He came to you in your weakest moment and tricked you and that is by no fault of your own."

Will sniffled.

"Will, look at me." At the obvious commanding tone, Will slowly picked his head up. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed with dark circles ringed around them, and his skin was paler than Halt ever remembered seeing it. Seeing Will like that made a sharp burst of fury rush through Halt- not at Will, but at the people who had taken advantage of his apprentice, who'd knowingly ruined Will's life.

"None of that was your fault," Halt said firmly, carefully enunciating each word. "None of it. Do you hear me?" Will's eyes flicked away from Halt's, unwilling or unable to hold his master's gaze. "Will. _Do you hear me?"_

Will ducked his head. "Yes, Halt," he said obediently. Frustration seethed inside Halt, but he forced it away. He knew he couldn't realistically expect all of Will's problems to be solved with a few words of Halt's. That didn't mean, however, that Halt still couldn't find it irritating.

"S-so...Halt..."

"Yes, Will?"

"You're not...mad at me?"

"No, Will."

A pause.

"You're not mad I didn't tell you?"

Halt tightened his grip on Will. "I'm angry that you hid this from me because, if I'd known, I could've helped you. And I'm angry at the people who did this to you. But I'm not angry at you for getting addicted."

Will didn't respond except to snuggle farther into Halt's arms.

 _Oh, Will._ Halt was a conflicting sea of emotions at the moment, and he decided he very distinctly did not like the feeling. He had no idea of anything except that right then, his apprentice needed him. Right then, it was Halt's job to protect and comfort Will as best he could.

He looked down at his apprentice and fought down his dismay. _How can I possibly do that?_ Halt had never been a father or a brother or a caring friend. The only close relationships he'd ever had were with Crowley, Gilan, and Pauline, and none of them but Crowley had gone through anything like what Will had. And even Crowley's experience was nothing like this. Halt had to face it: he was completely out of his depth here.

But he had to try.

He just held Will there for what felt like hours, stroking the boy's hair and rocking him gently back and forth. In his peripheral vision, a shadow shifted and moved- Crowley. Halt vaguely wondered how long he'd been there, watching them, and decided that was a question Halt would ask later. Will was quietly sobbing, more gasping breaths than anything at that point. Halt wished he knew the right thing to say- wished he had the magic words that would make his apprentice feel better. But he didn't and he hadn't.

Finally, when Will's shivering had all but ceased and his sobs had quieted, Halt loosened his grip around Will and allowed the boy to sit up. "Do you want to stay here tonight?" Halt asked quietly.

Will gave him a quizzical look. "What?"

"In this room. I thought you might not want to face Horace and Gilan yet, and we have a spare bed."

"Oh. Can I?"

"I wouldn't have offered if you couldn't," Halt told him. "We can worry about getting you a change of clothes later." Privately, Halt knew he'd probably send Crowley over as soon as Will was out of hearing, but he didn't want the boy to know how much the Ranger Commandant may or may not have overheard. He figured it was bad enough that Will had had to tell Halt what he did; Halt didn't want to make it any worse than it had to be.

"Alright." Will stood up, taking his two blankets with him, leaving behind a suddenly chilly Halt. _Damn, I'm getting old._

Will started towards Crowley's bedroom and did a double take once he got there, hastily retreating. The next one he picked was, fortunately, the spare, but before he set foot inside it, he turned back around to face his mentor. "Halt...thank you."

Halt met his eyes and gave him a nod.

A few seconds later, the door closed behind Will. Knowing the boy needed some alone time to think through everything that had just happened, Halt turned to the shadow he'd identified as Crowley several minutes earlier and raised an eyebrow.

"How long have you been here?"

 **A/N:** just wanted to apologize for all the formatting difficulties this fic has had. I'm copying and pasting these chapters over from AO3, which apparently uses a different format than document manager here does, so when I upload stuff, it either loses the italics, the page breaks, or both. Since both things (in my opinion) contribute very highly to the overall impression one gets from a story, I realize that said impression probably hasn't been that good. I've now fixed all the things I came across, at least in later chapters, and re-uploaded the chapters, so hopefully the formatting should be okay again. If any of y'all see things like something that's clearly a thought or a memory not italicized or a sudden jump into another scene without a line break, please, please tell me. I want to make my writing as polished and clean as possible.


	11. Chapter 11

Halt turned to the shadow he'd identified as Crowley several minutes earlier and raised an eyebrow.

"How long have you been here?"

"The whole time," Crowley told him, stepping into the light. "I didn't come out here for awhile, though. I figured Will wouldn't want me to know I'd seen him crying."

"Well," Halt said dryly, "if you're saying that, then you probably did anyway."

Crowley tilted his head. "Guilty. I didn't hear much, though. Just enough to know he's gone through some pretty tough times, and that you thought my knowing was 'none of my business.'"

Halt decided to ignore that last part. "Did you hear..." Halt paused, not wanting to give too much away in case his friend hadn't heard.

"About the warmweed? Yes. Poor kid. He's been through more than most Rangers have, and he's not even certified." Crowley paused. "Which reminds me...isn't this technically Will's third year?"

Halt pursed his lips. "Yes, but I'm not sure if he's going to make it through the assessment. He's missed over a year of training."

"Now, I wouldn't be too sure about that. He's a damn good shot for an apprentice, especially one that's been through what he has. And Gilan's helping him out with his movement. He has a chance yet."

Halt shrugged. "After what I've learned tonight, I wouldn't be surprised if he falls apart on me within a month. He's been strong for too long and it's taking its toll on him."

Crowley nodded a few times like he'd been expecting that answer. "I have a proposition for you then, Halt."

"Oh, joy," the other Ranger muttered under his breath.

"Now, don't get all sarcastic on me. I'm trying to do something nice for Will. What if we moved our annual Gathering up a few months? Instead of having it in January, what if we moved it to, say, March or April? That'd give Will a few extra months to prepare."

Halt stared at him. "Move the Gathering?"

"That's what I just said," Crowley said patiently. "It'd give him a fighting chance, at least, right?" When Halt didn't respond, Crowley pushed, "what do you say? It's worth a shot, don't you think?"

"The Gathering's always been in January," Halt said stubbornly. "I won't have you move it for my apprentice. He can redo a year or two and it won't be the end of the world."

Crowley held his face in one hand and sighed. "I swear to God, Halt, you're so dense sometimes. Did it cross your mind that maybe Will won't take to having to do another year of apprenticeship because of something he still blames himself for?"

Halt gave him a look that Crowley knew by now was a _you're right but I don't want to say it_ look. "You seemed to have heard a lot more than you said you had," he said levelly, ignoring Crowley's question.

"Well, when two Rangers enter your room after sunset with an apprentice in tow, you tend to become rather curious," the Ranger Commandant told him, not at all intimidated by the glare Halt sent his way.

"How much did you actually hear?"

"How much do you need to hear to agree to the Gathering?" Crowley asked in the same tone.

Halt crossed his arms. "Like I said, if Will doesn't pass in January, he'll redo the year. I'm not changing my mind."

Now it was Crowley's turn to glare at his friend. "Come on, Halt!" he cried softly, sparing a cursory glance at Will's bedroom to make sure the door was still closed. "The boy's having a tough enough time already without you adding on the stress it'll take to get him up to a third year's skill."

"Why do you care so much?"

Crowley stared him down. "Why do you keep ignoring what I'm saying?"

They stared at each other for a long moment. Halt was the first to break the stare. He heaved a sigh. "In addition to this date change being rather...unorthodox...there are other problems to consider, too. If we moved it up an extra two or three months, it's safe to assume the next year's Gathering would still be in January, yes? That'd give Will two or three less months to prepare for his fourth year assessment."

"That may be true," Crowley conceded, "but once he gets back on his feet, it shouldn't be hard to compensate for the two or three fewer months. Right now, Will doesn't seem to be in the greatest shape, and we both know from experience that it always gets worse before it gets better."

Halt shifted onto his other foot, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Crowley knew it was because of his last sentence. Ironically enough, Halt had always seemed to be more affected by that event than anyone else- even Crowley, and he was the one that had had to live through it. He'd always just supposed that Halt was simply unused to showing emotion and therefore felt vulnerable and weird when he had to.

Whatever the reason, though, Halt needed to get over it. Will needed support and comfort and Crowley had a feeling Halt was the only one Will would accept it from. He knew already that Will's actions had severely affected Halt, just by the way he'd held his apprentice. Even if he hadn't said anything, Crowley had spent years with the man. He knew how to read his friend.

Crowley crossed his arms and stared at the other Ranger. Crowley had never been the intimidating one, but he could definitely be stubborn if he so chose. Even Halt couldn't always beat him in that.

They stared each other down for a long moment. Then Halt's eyes flicked down; as much of a surrender as Crowley would ever get. "Fine. We'll try it your way. But if this makes Will worse-"

"It won't," Crowley said levelly. "I think you forget sometimes that I've gone through my share of tough times. I know, better than anyone else in this castle, the sort of thing Will's been through."

"If you think you're so qualified," Halt said, voice lowering into that deadly tone he'd mastered so well, "then why don't I see you helping him instead of me?"

"Because you're his master, not me," the Ranger Commandant said steadily, "and I know how much you care for him, and how much he cares for you in return. Will and I do not have that same bond, so the 'job' falls to you to take care of him." Crowley's eyes darkened when he said the word _job,_ spitting it out like it had personally offended him. In return, Halt's eyes moved away from his own for a second.

Halt didn't respond. Crowley raised his eyes to Heaven and muttered something about stubborn, idiotic Rangers. "Halt, please stop being so difficult. I understand that this isn't easy for you, considering what happened. But, God's sake, man, if anyone should be traumatized about that, it should be me! _You're_ not the one that had to go through all of that!"

"But I'm the one who had to watch," Halt retorted. "It's not easy to watch, either." Then he sighed. "But enough of this pointless discussion. I promised I'd save him, and I'll keep that promise." He turned, effectively dismissing his friend. "I'll go check on Will now."

Crowley nodded and turned in the opposite direction. "I'll go find some couriers."

* * *

"Halt...thank you."

Halt met his eyes and gave him a nod.

Turning, Will stepped inside his bedroom and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. A few seconds later, he heard the soft murmur of voices. Instantly, panic began to rear its ugly head and his breathing sped up as his mind raced with questions- who was it? How long had he been there? How much had he heard?

He tried desperately to control his breathing, leaning back against the heavy, wooden door and slowly dropping to the ground. He lay there in a ball, heart racing and breaths coming almost as swiftly. The voices were a little louder now, but the thick door separating them and the fact that they clearly didn't want to be overheard meant that Will had no idea what was being said- or even what gender the speakers were. He guessed that Halt was one of them, but had no idea about the other.

Logically, he knew that it wasn't even that much of a reason to have a panic attack. Some people were talking, perhaps about him; so what? Old Will would've been curious, if anything. He would've tried to press his ear into the door or maybe even dared to crack it open, hoping that Halt and the other person wouldn't notice.

Present Will? He was just terrified.

As breathless, panicked minutes passed and Will's lack of oxygen became more and more apparent, the room seemed to dim around him as spots floated across his vision. He knew what was happening: if he didn't start breathing again soon, he'd pass out.

Not exactly a comforting thought.

Will had had his share of panic attacks since Skandia- and even a few milder ones before- but none had ever been this bad. Will, with his remaining brainpower, surmised it was probably because of what he'd just done- what he'd just told Halt.

Under normal circumstances, he might've pursued the thought further, but just thinking about it made his breath shorten even more. He belatedly stopped doing so. But his breathing problem was still there, and the hazy, tunnel vision in his eyes was only growing more pronounced with every second. Frantically, Will tried to think up a solution. He'd been muttering _breathe, breathe, breathe_ at himself, but it hadn't worked.

Running out of options, Will fell back onto one he'd used without fail for almost everything that had happened to him in Skandia.

 _What would Halt do?_

But, for once, it didn't help. Halt was not emotional. Will could sooner see the grim Ranger willingly set himself on fire than succumb to any raw, deep emotion such as panic. Halt just didn't _do_ panic attacks, and Will also didn't think that Halt would be overly approving of Will having one, either.

So he switched tactics. _What would Halt do if he were here right now?_

That was easy. Will could imagine the raised eyebrow, the brusque tone and the _what are you doing, Will? Breathe. It's not that hard._

Surprisingly, that helped, if only a little. Will knew that he'd do almost anything Halt asked him to without question; it seemed that not only his mind, but his body, were wired to respond to his teacher's commands instantly, even imagined ones.

Slowly, slowly, Will began to breathe again. He was still terrified, but he forced himself to work through it, reminding himself bitterly that Halt wouldn't be that weak. As his terror slowly abated, he began to feel rather silly. Now that all was said and done, it seemed a minor and inconsequential thing that had set him off.

 _Halt would be ashamed,_ he thought.

Will slowly picked himself up, swaying as vertigo surged, making him dizzy and nauseous. His vision darkened again and he forced himself to take three slow, deep breaths before he moved anywhere. Once he could see where he was going, he moved to his bed, throwing himself down onto the huge, soft mattress and staring up at the ceiling. Now that he'd gotten himself under control, he could finally think over the events of the day.

His mind flashed from event to event, carefully analyzing every moment. It was something Halt had told him to do a few weeks before Celtica; he'd told Will that minds grew stronger and sharper with practice, and thinking over every action that'd been taken that day was a good way to start. Will had found that it had helped him learn how to read people much better, but at the moment, he wasn't sure that's what he wanted to think about.

Will mused over his archery, berating himself for his poor shooting and wondering, with a flash of horror, if Halt had been watching him even then. It certainly wouldn't be out of character for the grim old Ranger. He replayed every moment surrounding his near death, forced himself to go over Halt's cold, brutal words. Even now, they stung. The echo of them played round and round in his head, a tortuous loop, murmuring _do you want us to let you go?_ over and over again.

Had Halt wanted him to die? Had Halt _wanted_ to let Will go?

 _No,_ he told himself, shaking his head in an attempt to convince himself of the falseness of that. _Halt cares about you._

But he couldn't fight away the tiny seed of doubt.

"Will?" a soft knock sounded at the door and the boy jumped guiltily, as though caught doing something wrong. "Can I come in?"

 _As if he'd listen to me if I told him not to,_ Will thought. "Yes, Halt."

The door open soundlessly. Equally quietly, the Ranger stepped in and regarded Will with a calm, calculating gaze. Will wanted to ask him why he was there, but didn't feel like being told off for asking useless questions. Besides, he already knew the answer: Halt most likely wanted to make sure he was alive.

Again, that tiny, doubt-filled voice in the back of his head whispered, _but is that a good or bad thing in his eyes?_

"Is there something you need, Halt?" Will asked pointedly, then winced. A year and a half ago, that would've been all Halt needed to make Will spend the night in a tree. Will stared at Halt, expecting a punishment, but the Ranger didn't look the slightest bit affected. Odd.

"If you'd stop asking questions, that'd be nice," Halt responded, and strangely, Will fought off a grin. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been on the receiving end of Halt's question-related annoyance; couldn't really remember the last time he'd asked a question that wasn't absolutely vital, either.

Halt moved forward a step, not shutting the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"

Will's first response was to laugh, which he shoved away. _How am I feeling?_ What an inane, pointless question. Of course he wasn't bloody okay. "I'm alright."

Halt raised an eyebrow. Will wanted to retreat but refrained. He'd told Halt all the Ranger needed to know; that was enough. He refused to tell Halt anything else.

"I seem to recall you being honest and forthright at one point," Halt commented casually.

Will shrugged, fighting the hurt the Ranger's words caused. "I guess people change," he said quietly.

Halt gazed at him and stepped back again, eyes flickering with something almost sad. "I guess they do."

Before either one could say anything else, there was a soft click. Will stared at the shut door in silence.

He was alone again.

* * *

"How is Will?"

Halt stabbed his fork into his sausage perhaps a little too violently. "Fine."

Even without looking up, he could feel Crowley, who'd asked the question, and Gilan staring at him accusingly. Halt spared a moment to thank God Horace wasn't there at the moment (mooning over Princess Cassandra, most likely).

"Halt, come on," Gilan said pleadingly. "At least tell us why he isn't eating with us."

"He refused to come out of his room," Halt said. If his tone was a little colder than usual, no one pointed it out. "He wouldn't tell me why."

"Surely you have an idea," Crowley said exasperatedly. "You're _Halt,_ after all."

Halt shrugged, shoving a bite of sausage into his mouth. When the stares turned slowly into glares, he finally caved. "He's either trying to starve himself or simply doesn't want to face us. I'm leaning towards the latter, personally."

"But why?" Gilan wondered. "He must know we'd never look down on him for something like that!"

It was Crowley who answered. "In his current state, I doubt he's thinking logically. He's probably too lost in self-hatred to be able to realize that we don't all hate him and wish he were dead."

Gilan stared, horrified, at his Commandant. "Crowley, you don't mean..."

"Yes." Crowley's calm voice did nothing to alleviate Gilan's fears; in fact, it only served to heighten them. "From what I've heard, Will's chest-deep in depression right now. That's not something that can just vanish with a wave of the hand and some fancy words."

Gilan's brow furrowed. Crowley's words seemed a little _too_ intimate, too knowing, but that was a question for later. "How do we help?" He asked instead.

"I'd personally consider taking him to see a counselor," the Commandant mumbled around a mouthful of food, then swallowed. "Before you say anything, Halt, just think. You've seen it help before-" he gave his friend a meaningful look that had Gilan hopelessly confused- "so why not try it with Will?"

"Don't I get a say in this?"

Gilan and Crowley, who'd been facing away from the door, started guiltily. Halt raised an eyebrow at them (some Rangers they were) before flicking his gaze towards Will. "Of course you do," Halt said levelly, "which is why I didn't say anything."

"I'm pretty sure that's because you realized I was already here," Will said, but there was a hint of his old amusement in his voice.

"So, Will, what do you think about-"

"No." Will cut his Commandant off instantly, then winced. "I'm sorry, Crowley! I just-"

"'S alright, Will. But at least think about it, okay? It could help."

"I-I'm not depressed."

Crowley spared him a level look. That was what they all said at first. With a hint of sarcasm, he responded, "because jumping off a building isn't at all something depressed people do."

"Well, but-" Will stopped. It was clear he still held the Ranger Commandant in considerable awe. It was the most Will-like thing Halt had seen the boy do since they'd found each other in Skandia, and it made Halt's chest feel oddly lighter.

Crowley gave him a small, sad smile. "Just think about it. In the mean time, we've got breakfast. Want some?"

A tiny smile broke out on Will's face. "I'm starving."

* * *

"Halt, what's happening? All the palace servants seem like they're in a hurry today."

"I believe," the Ranger said slowly, "that the King has finally announced the final celebration of the Princess's return."

"When is it?"

Halt gave Will a level look. "It's today." He pretended not to see the look of horror that crossed Will's face, or the rapidly spreading paleness. He knew (or thought he did) what Will was thinking. His apprentice didn't feel he was deserving of the award because of his addiction. Halt disagreed.

"Don't think you're getting out of this," he threatened, glaring at his apprentice.

"But...I don't..."

"Too bad," Halt told him. "It's not generally a wise idea to refuse the King's orders."

"Do you think he's forgotten about giving me a reward?" Will asked, in a tone that said he knew very well that the King had not.

"Unlike some apprentices, the King doesn't forget very easily."

Will looked offended and opened his mouth, but just as quickly shut it, looking down. Halt fought away a frown and continued sharpening his saxe knife. That was what had been happening the last three days: now that Will had told him his secret, the boy had at least become a little more like his old self. The stress was on _a little._ A spark of Will's old curiosity had come back, along with perhaps a tad of his cheeriness (Halt noted dryly that that was only around Gilan), but that was it.

Will had changed, and Halt knew he wouldn't get the old Will back. He'd honestly never really expected to- but neither had he expected this new Will to be so drastically different from his old apprentice. Crowley had told him once that you couldn't expect someone to be the same after a traumatic experience. Halt had disregarded the thought at the time, not really willing to listen to his friend, but now he recognized the wisdom for what it was.

Halt's apprentice was different, and truth was, he always would be. Halt was working on accepting that, but more important was getting Will to accept it himself. Will might never be as cheerful or carefree again. He would be quieter, perhaps, and more sensitive to things like drugs and any other triggers he'd picked up in Skandia. As long as Will didn't let it, it shouldn't affect his career or his life in the long run.

But Halt already knew that his apprentice wouldn't just accept that. Will had fairly obvious signs of depression and Halt kicked himself for having to have Will nearly jump off a tower for him to notice them. The tiredness, apathy, low self-esteem, suicidal thoughts...Will had them all. That wasn't to say he exhibited every symptom every second or minute or hour of the day, but Halt had seen enough to know Will experienced all of them on a regular basis.

"Halt?"

The Ranger grunted, only half listening.

"...can I wear my cloak to the ceremony?"

Halt turned to his apprentice, scandalized. "I should think not."

Glumly, Will resumed sharpening his own two knives. He'd moved to Halt and Crowley's rooms the next day, not wanting to face Horace, who still knew nothing of Will's condition. Now, he and Halt sat on different ends of the sofa, Will cross-legged and Halt with his feet firmly on the ground.

Halt gave him the slightest sideways glance- more a movement of his eyes than anything. The boy seemed worlds away, lost in his own thoughts, but at least his eyes weren't that glazed, hazy look he'd had those first weeks.

Halt had to admit, it wasn't all gloom and doom. Will was improving, if only a little bit. Yes, he was gradually drawing further and further away from Halt, but he seemed to at least be retaining a strong friendship with Gilan. Although the Ranger had his doubts on how well that'd work out for Will once they were back at Redmont, for now it was alright. At the very least, Will was talking now, and his training was progressing well under Gilan's watchful eye.

Yes. Halt nodded to himself. Even if Will had some scars, he was confident that, one day, his apprentice would return to him. He set down his saxe knife and picked up his other one, grimacing slightly.

He just had to wait for it.

* * *

 **A/N:** Interesting grammar rule I learned the other day: apparently, when referring to an unknown or common noun via pronoun, the accepted grammatical pronoun form to use is 'he'. Even if it could possibly be a girl. Apparently, using 'they' isn't proper English. That definitely threw me off, but well, I'm not the one who wrote the rules. Oh well.


	12. Chapter 12

Will had been to several parties in his young life- even, recently, a few at Castle Araluen.

They were nothing like this one.

The King had truly pulled out all stops with this banquet. The entire palace was decked with flowers- for Princess Cassandra- as well as garlands of oak-leaves, which Will did a fairly good job of pretending they weren't for he and Halt. Guests from all over the kingdom assembled inside the huge hall.

Master Chubb and, of course, his foremost apprentice, Jenny, had come all the way from Castle Redmont to oversee the affair. Although Will never caught sight of his wardmate, she and Master Chubb sent many of the best dishes to him and Will reminded himself to thank both of them whenever he saw them next. For once, the four Rangers were in the center of the room, surrounded by people. Will felt exposed and vulnerable, especially without his cloak, and although Halt, Crowley, and Gilan didn't show it, he guessed they must be feeling the same way.

As the feasting went on, Will couldn't help a growing nervousness. He glanced at Halt, who looked as unaffected and calm as ever, and wished he had Halt's steadiness.

"Nervous, Will?" Gilan asked from where he sat at Will's left.

Will looked surreptitiously at Halt, sitting on the other side of Will. The Ranger seemed to be in polite conversation with a court dignitary, so he turned to Gilan and murmured, "Yes. I still don't...don't think I should be receiving anything. I mean, I didn't do much. Halt was the one that won the battle and got us home safely."

Gilan shrugged. "I think you're selling yourself short. You kept the Princess safe as best you could."

Will sighed, picking at his food. His appetite suddenly seemed to have vanished. "I never told the King about the warmweed addiction," he mumbled. "It feels dishonest for him to be rewarding me for something he thinks I did but didn't actually do."

Now, the Ranger looked away, a little awkwardly. Will's brow furrowed. The day after he'd told Halt,Will had mumbled a stilted, bare-bones version of his addiction and rescue to Gilan. The young Ranger hadn't acted the least bit awkward when Will had told him that. It was odd to show awkwardness now, so Will said slowly, "Gilan? Is there something I should know?"

"Halt...might have..." But whatever the young Ranger was about to say, he was silenced by a resounding kick in the shins. Glancing over, the two saw Halt glaring at them.

"I didn't do anything."

But Will, after his year in Skandia, was no longer naive. He had a bad feeling he knew what Gilan had been trying to tell him. "Halt, did you...?"

His mentor met Will's gaze evenly, dark eyes holding no hint of guilt. "I gave him the official, honest report of everything that happened in Skandia, to the best of my knowledge. If my apprentice is to be rewarded, I want it to be honestly." He paused. "And I know that's what you want, too."

Will stood, almost knocking his chair over, and pushed his plate away, feeling sick. Somewhere in his gut, a nauseating feeling almost like betrayal churned. "I- I need to-" he turned, moving away as quickly as he could without. He half-expected someone to follow him and felt relieved when no one did, stumbling into the nearest bathroom and forcing himself not to panic.

Fortunately- or unfortunately- the only emotion he could clearly feel at the moment was anger. He was furious with Halt for telling his secret without even bothering to ask for Will's permission. How dare he? Halt was _not_ Will's father, and even if he were, he'd still have no right to do something like that.

Over the pounding in his veins, he heard King Duncan's clear, deep voice resound through the banquet hall. "My lords and ladies, this occasion is one of great pleasure for me. For a start, we are here to celebrate the safe return of my daughter, Princess Cassandra- an eventuality that brings me more joy than you could possibly comprehend."

Vague cries of _hear, hear!_

Will took a deep breath. His anger slowly began to melt away, laced with panic. Would the King attempt to reward him, even after all Will had done- all Will had become? Would he command Crowley to kick Will out of the Corps, perhaps, or- the worst by far- exile him like he'd done to Halt, but for life?

"The other source of pleasure to me tonight is the opportunity to reward those who were responsible for her safe return."

Will shut his eyes. _That's not me, right? After all, the only thing I did was become a druggie and a useless waste of space._ But his nervousness grew, and with it, his panic. He had unformed images of him tripping in front of the King, of him starting to hyperventilate or something else equally as embarrassing.

"First, would the Ranger Halt please step forward."

Maybe he could just hide. Pretend he couldn't hear the King if Will heard his name called. _If Halt wants his apprentice to get his reward so badly,_ Will thought bitterly, _let him drag me up there himself. I won't go willingly._

"Although I know that Halt would never accept any reward other than his restoration to the Ranger Corps-" he paused, and Will heard the crowd stir in surprise, "I nonetheless must say this. Halt, I owe you more than any King ever owed a man. I will never forget all you have done."

Will scoffed. He'd get mad at Will for not accepting a reward, but would do the same himself?

"Next, let the warrior apprentice Horace stand forward."

If Horace was going next, that meant Will was last. Which meant that, if he wanted to get out of here, he didn't have much more time. Will set his jaw and started moving, near soundlessly moving out of the bathroom and into the hallway that led to the great hall. Gilan's efforts over the past month had already begun to ripen; Will's footsteps were so soft on the marble floors that they were completely swallowed up by the King's words and the din of the crowd.

"Horace, it has come to our attention that you traveled throughout Gallica in the guise of a fully qualified knight...the _Chevalier de Feuille du Chene-_ the Oakleaf Knight."

Will smiled slightly in the direction of the hall before turning away. He needed to get out, and he needed to get out quickly. Will started down the hall, as swiftly as possible without sounding too loud, but before he could even get halfway down the hallway, he was stopped in his tracks by an iron grip on one arm.

"What did I say about disobeying the King?"

Will jerked, writhing around in an attempt to dislodge Halt's grip, but the Ranger's hand stayed firm and after a few seconds, Will gave up. "I'm not going in there," he said stubbornly. He knew that, if this were under normal circumstances, Halt would've punished him severely for his disobedience, but at this particular moment Will couldn't bring himself to care.

"I said you're going in there, so you are," Halt said lowly. The danger was clear from his tone, but Will could not, _would not_ stand there and pretend he'd been a moral, upstanding Ranger who'd done his duty and protected the Princess like he was supposed to.

"No."

"Would you like to repeat that again?" Halt asked. The sheer command and power he used in that one sentence was terrifying, but Will refused to back down. Everything about that- about looking the King in the eye, listening to him prattle on about Will's courage and dedication and honor- all of it was repugnant and Will _would not_ _do that._

"I'm not going in there, Halt," Will said quietly. "I won't stand there and pretend to be something I'm not."

"Will, this is not the right time to reclaim your honesty. Just go in there."

"I won't do it! You'll have to drag me." As soon as he said it, he regretted it. One look at Halt's face told him that that was exactly what the Ranger would do, if necessary.

Halt turned on his heel and moved, taking Will with him. "I'll give you two options: One, I let go of your arm and you walk in there by yourself. Two, I drag you all the way back there until we get in eyesight of the others, at which point you'll probably be in the center of attention and unable to run away. Which will it be?"

"Halt, please, I-" he turned to his master, tears springing to his eyes. "I can't stand up there and look him in the eyes and act like I saved his d-daughter o-or that I was of any use to _anyone_ at any point in time during our stay in Skandia. I _can't_ do it. Please don't make me, Halt. _Please."_

The Ranger's eyes softened, but his grip on Will didn't. "Will, I know I'll probably never be able to convince you of this, but you did do something noble in Skandia. You were honorable and you did your duty as best you could, and the King agrees. After everything you've been through, you deserve this much. I know you don't want to do this, but..." he hesitated, as though he weren't sure what to say. Distantly, Will heard the King knight Horace and felt a surge of happiness for his friend.

"You're my apprentice and I didn't get myself exiled to see you walk away without being honored for what you did," Halt said firmly. "Will, whatever the King says to you, you deserve every bit of it." He started walking again, back to the great hall where the King was. Feeling dazed, Will let his mentor lead him back.

Once they got to the door, standing just in the shadows so no one would notice them, Halt turned to him, looking straight into his eyes. "If I take my hand off your arm, will you stay here?"

Horace's heavy footsteps were retreating down the walkway. Will knew that, if he wanted to escape, it was now or never. "Halt," he mumbled desperately, "please."

"Would the Ranger apprentice Will stand forward."

"Go." Halt's steady, quiet voice was later what Will recognized as the only thing that gave him the strength to do what he did he next.

Will squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and started up the long aisle leading up to the throne. Partway up, he tripped over someone's foot and flailed, barely managing to regain his balance. Heat flared to his cheeks but surprisingly, no one laughed. He desperately wished for Halt to be there, or at least to have his cloak- he felt vulnerable and small, all too conscious of his lack of height and the hundreds of people staring at him.

He could feel their judgment- _this_ is one of the people who saved Princess Cassandra? How could a mere boy have done anything useful?

And, truth was, Will didn't feel like he _had._

Finally, he stood in front of the King. Will had never been so close to his ruler before and it caused a nervous sweat to break out all over his face. He swallowed, carefully avoiding the King's eyes. Despite what Halt said, Will still felt dirty and dishonest, standing before his King like he'd done nothing wrong.

"Will, your Ranger Corps have their own ways and their own regulations. I've spoken to your mentor, Halt-" a low murmur of surprise broke out and Will ducked his head- "and to the Corps Commandant, and unfortunately it's beyond my power to rescind your period of training and declare you a fully qualified Ranger. Halt and Crowley insist that you must complete your full period of training and assessment."

He nodded and swallowed again, biting his lip. Will had never even participated his first year assessment- Halt had told him he was qualified enough to progress to his second year, but now he'd missed his second year assessment, too. Will had missed so much of his training. Horace's natural talent and the fact that knights only needed to know how to bash and whack meant that he could be knighted early, but Will knew that his skills were not ones that could be won by anything except hard work.

"However, I can offer an alternative. It is within my power to appoint you as a lieutenant in the Royal Scouts. Your masters have agreed that you are totally qualified for such an appointment and will release you from your apprenticeship if that is your wish."

The assembled crowd gave one unified gasp. Will stared at the King, speechless. The Royal Scouts were an elite force of light cavalry, tasked with the responsibility of training the kingdom's archers and scouting ahead of the King's army in battle. All recruits, let alone all _officers,_ were from the ranks of the nobility- the appointment was basically the same thing as a knighthood.

But even as he mulled it over, that seed of doubt that had been planted days before began to grow. _Halt said I was totally qualified for such an appointment, did he? Is he...is he trying to get rid of me?_

Will glanced at where Halt was sitting now, in his old seat across from Crowley and two over from Gilan. The Commandant and Halt were both staring at the table and Will knew he'd get no advice from them. But Gilan was staring at him, shocked.

In his heart of hearts, Will knew it was not for him. On the one hand, he knew he didn't deserve it, not after everything he'd done. Not after how much he'd screwed up. But on the other...Will knew that nothing could compare to the Ranger life. Nothing would give him the same quiet joy and contentment as his rides with Tug, Halt and Abelard. Nothing would interest him so much as scouting and investigating fugitives and murderers and other enemies of the crown.

But...

Will was aware of a tense, expectant silence as his reply failed to come.

 _Is this Halt's way of getting rid of me?_

"Might...might I think on it, your majesty?"

Shocked murmurs. When given a reward by the King, one was supposed to accept or decline immediately. This wasn't quite a breach of protocol, but it came close. As a Ranger's apprentice, Will was less bound to etiquette than others, but an action like this would be frowned upon even for him- even for Halt or Crowley.

Duncan looked a little surprised also, but he covered it well. He nodded at Will and gave him a reassuring smile. "Of course. I will allow you the length of one day to think on this offer." He turned Will around and gave him a gentle push in the Rangers' direction- precisely the way he didn't want to go. But Will was surrounded by hundreds of people, all with their attention fixed on him. He had no choice.

As he sat back down between Gilan and Halt, he carefully avoided the latter's gaze, picking at his food with his fork. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to endure people's endless, well-meaning questions- _why didn't you do it?_ or _why didn't you stay a Ranger?_

"Wow, Will, you're certainly popular," Gilan commented brightly, stuffing a biscuit in his mouth. How he could still be eating after four hours of such, Will had no idea. The only one who still seemed to be as hungry as Gilan was, unsurprisingly, Horace, a few seats farther away. "Didn't Baron Arald try to get you to quit the Corps, too?"

Will nodded, forcing a grin. "Yes. Apparently shooting a Kalkara with an arrow made him think I had real potential to become a knight, so he offered to let me train in the Battleschool."

Gilan shook his head, grinning. "Were you tempted? I wouldn't have been at all. All those ghastly drills." He grimaced, taking another bite of biscuit.

"Uh..." acutely aware of Halt sitting mere centimeters away from him, watching him, Will shrugged. "I mean, I thought my dad was a knight. I wanted to follow in his footsteps."

"Your dad was a knight?" Gilan questioned, not seeing Halt's warning look until it was too late. Misunderstanding the look, he looked at Will apologetically. "Sorry. If you don't want to talk about him, that's fine."

Will shook his head. "That's not it. I don't even remember him. He...he died fighting Wargals. He died protecting someone. He was a hero, but not a knight. Once I found that out, well," he grinned, "I've never much liked swords anyway."

Gilan gave him an offended look. He'd taken off his sword to attend the banquet, leaving only his double knives left on his person, like the other three Rangers- except Halt, who refused to go anywhere without his longbow. Because of that, he didn't have a sword to wave around threateningly at Will, as the apprentice was sure he would've if he'd had it. "I'll have you know, Will, swords are amazing. You can bash and whack with the best of them with one." he gave Halt a cheery grin, but the Ranger didn't even seem to be listening.

Seeing this, the younger Ranger stuffed the last bit of his biscuit into his mouth and stood, beckoning Will to follow. Wordlessly, the boy did, carefully avoiding looking at either of the remaining Rangers sitting at the table.

Gilan kept walking until they reached a secluded room. He sat down on the nearest couch, propped his feet up, and gave Will a look. "Alright, spill. I can tell you love being a Ranger. Why would you even think about leaving us- leaving it," he corrected hastily, "for that?"

Will moved quietly to the door and looked out, eyes carefully scanning the shadows in case someone was listening. Once he was satisfied they were alone, he shut the door and sat down across from his friend. His voice was low and sad- almost pitiful- when he spoke. "Gilan, tell me honestly. Do you think Halt's trying to get rid of me?"

Gilan stared at him as though he'd gone crazy. "What!?" he whisper-screamed. "You think _Halt_ spoke to the King about this because he doesn't want you as his apprentice anymore?"

Will nodded miserably. "It's just...I'm such a mess. I-I still don't know if I would've jumped off that tower. I feel dazed and muddled all the time, like my mind is trying to move but can't. It's the warmweed, I know it. And I keep having panic attacks and-"

"Wait, hold on. You said you're having panic attacks?" Gilan glared at Will. "Are you incapable of telling us anything?"

The apprentice stared at his hands.

"Will," now Gilan's tone was gentler as he changed tactics. "I won't deny that you're in a bad place right now, but that doesn't mean we're just going to abandon you. I care about you. Halt cares about you. Hell, even Crowley cares for you. No one messes with one of our own and gets away with it."

Will didn't respond. Gilan gazed sadly on his young friend, wishing he knew what to say to make him better. Will had gone through so much in his young life, and he wasn't even seventeen. He'd killed a Kalkara, faced Wargals and Morgarath, gotten captured by Skandians, been forced into slavery, and even trained his own corps of archers and fought in a war against some of the foremost warriors in the world. Will had gone through more than most full-grown soldiers ever did, and he wasn't even a fully-fledged Ranger.

"Will, believe me. Halt would sooner cut his hair with an actual pair of scissors than willingly toss you away. He's only looking out for your best interests here."

"And he thinks I'll do better there than as a Ranger, I suppose," Will said, a tad bitterly. Gilan let out a sigh.

"He's giving you a choice. Halt obviously wants you to choose him, but he'd never actually say that, would he? C'mon, Will, you've spent two years with the man. Would he ever actually tell you something like that?"

Will had to admit that Halt wouldn't. But at the same time... "If he wanted to get rid of me, would he outright tell me that either?"

Gilan muttered something that had the words _stupid_ and _apprentices_ in it. "Do you honestly think Halt would've risked death or banishment _for life_ if he didn't care about you, Will? Do you honestly think he'd leave the service of a King he loves and a Corps and home that means everything to him for an apprentice he was planning to ditch at the first opportunity?"

"Well..."

Gilan wasn't finished. "When he left Araluen, a year ago, I've never seen him look more desperate and determined at the same time. He _cried_ when he came back home, Will. Crowley told me Halt actually cried when he set foot on Araluen soil again. The oakleaf we bear means more to him than almost anything. For him to have risked giving it up for the rest of his life..."

"He went for Princess Cassandra, too," Will muttered, but it was a weak defense and they both knew it.

"At the time, none of us knew about Ragnak's Vallasvow. We were expecting to receive a ransom note any day. But Halt knew no one would try to ransom a Ranger, especially an apprentice. Will, face it." Gilan crossed his arms. "Halt wouldn't just throw you away because you don't fit your own tight standards for yourself. Halt's not the kind of person to care about what you've done, and you know what? None of us Rangers are." Gilan makes a face. "Okay, maybe a few. But they're assholes, so don't listen to them."

Will smiled a little. It was uncertain and still sad, but Gilan was relieved. The boy didn't smile nearly enough anymore. "Gil, you're- you're certain about this?"

The older man fought back a sarcastic quip. "I'm positive." Grinning, he added, "if you want, you can go ask Halt about it yourself."

Will's eyes widened. "No, I couldn't do that. That's..."

"So, you staying with us, then?"

Gilan sounded so hopeful, Will couldn't help but smile. "I guess I am."

* * *

That night, Gilan motioned Halt silently out of his room and into the one Gilan shared with Horace.

"Has Will decided yet?" was the first thing Halt asked.

Gilan nodded, grimacing. "I feel bad saying this, like I'm breaking his trust or something..." he trailed off. Halt raised an eyebrow.

"Why don't you first tell me what Will's decided _before_ you get into the details."

The young Ranger grinned. "But that'd ruin all the fun!" At a glare from Halt, Gilan sighed. "Fine. He's gonna stay a Ranger. He's already told the King."

Halt's jaw tightened. He felt strangely hurt that Will would've told the King before telling him- and that, when Halt was finally told, it was Gilan, not Will, telling him. "I see."

"But..." Gilan hesitated again. "Will's reasons for hesitating in the first place were...rather unorthodox." When Halt said nothing, simply motioning for him to go on, Gilan took a deep breath and continued. "The reason he hesitated was because...well, because he..." the man muttered something too quiet to make out.

"What?"

"He thought you suggested that whole thing to the King because you wanted to get rid of him," Gilan said heavily.

Halt blinked. "I...see."

"That's it?" his former apprentice asked incredulously. "No bursts of anger? No muttering about stupid apprentices? No-" he cut off mid-sentence. Halt was staring at the ground, looking almost...sad.

"Halt?" Gilan asked carefully.

Halt looked up. He covered it well, but the other Ranger could still see something pained in Halt's eyes. "What would you like me to say, Gilan?" he asked, tone carefully neutral.

"Halt, he's your apprentice! You should say _something._ He thought you didn't care about him at all! Will actually thought that you'd throw him away like garbage at the first chance you got. Halt, that's not- that's not _right!"_

"Of course it's not," Halt said soothingly, putting a hand on his former apprentice's shoulder. Gilan bowed his head and slung one arm around the older man, seeking comfort from the one who'd been his father for five years when David couldn't be. "Of course it's not right, Gilan. But these things take time. I could spout all the fine words I want, but I doubt any of them would make an impact on the boy. The best thing I can do right now is show him, but," a hint of a sad smile flickered on the grizzled Ranger's lips, "people say I'm not the best at showing emotion."

If it were any other time, Gilan would've made a sarcastic quip or dry remark. Instead, he just let out a soft, pained laugh. "Halt...what are we going to do?"

Gilan expected the Ranger to look him squarely in the eyes, to state in his even, commanding voice an exact, well thought out plan. But Halt did none of those things. Instead, he just sighed and looked to the door of the rooms, where, across the hall, Will slept.

"I don't know, Gilan. I just don't know."

And somehow, out of everything Gilan had gone through, out of all the near-death experiences and traumas he'd been part of, hearing his mentor and father and friend say he didn't know what to do...

Somehow, that was the most terrifying thing of all.


	13. Chapter 13

The morning after the banquet, Will was practicing his archery when the Princess passed by him- and stopped.

"Will." Her tone was one he couldn't read, so he lowered his bow and turned to her expectantly.

Everything about her spoke of intent. She put her hands on her hips and asked, "Why didn't you accept the offer to become an officer of the Royal Scouts? I-I thought you'd accept it..."

Something about the way she said it made Will's eyes widen in surprise. "Eva- your highness, it was you who thought of that offer?"

"Will, drop the 'your highness.' After all we've been through, you at least can call me by my name. And..." she looked down a little shyly. "Yes, that was me. Why? Who'd you think it was?"

He just shrugged. "Thank you," he murmured, adding a hasty _Cassandra_ onto it and feeling relieved when a small smile appeared on her face. "But my place is with the Ranger Corps."

Cassandra offered him a sympathetic but skeptical look. Hastily glancing around, she asked, "Is hiding something that big really what you want to do for the rest of your life, Will?" She asked. "Rangers are...well, they're spies, for one. It's their _job_ to be suspicious and ask questions. The Royal Scouts would never think to ask of something like that. Rangers..."

Will smiled sadly. "It's a little late for secrecy. They know about the warmweed."

Cassandra stared at him for a moment, then slapped him. "You idiot!"

"Ow!" He rubbed his reddened cheek. "That hurt!"

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded.

"I only told them a week ago," Will defended, "and you've been busy since then."

She hit him again. "That's no excuse!" Then, pausing, she asked slowly, "What made you decide to tell them? Weren't you against it?"

"It wasn't really my choice," Will muttered, "But seeing as Halt probably would've strung me up and used me as target practice if I hadn't, I decided to tell them."

"What clued them in? I haven't told them a thing," she added hastily.

Will winced, looking away. He kept silent long enough that the Princess uttered an annoyed _Will._ Finally, reluctantly, he said, "Gilan and Halt found me on a ledge on top of a tower. They, uh, thought I was going to jump off, so they dragged me back. Halt demanded I tell him what was going on, and I knew he wouldn't be satisfied unless I told him everything."

Cassandra's glare was probably hot enough to burn through metal at this point. "What the hell, Will!? I told you to come to me if you felt like doing something stupid!"

Sparing a thought as to how the Princess's first sentence was rather unladylike, he mumbled, "it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Good idea my ass," Cassandra said firmly, "That could've gotten you killed! I mean..." she hesitated, anger seeping away, "Will, did you...is that what you wanted to happen? Did you _want_ to...die?"

And that was something Will did not want to answer. He shuffled a bit and glanced around. It honestly wouldn't even surprise him at this point if not only Halt but Gilan as well were watching him. But he didn't want to lie. He had spent enough of his life lying; he never wanted to utter another dishonest word again.

"Cassandra," he said instead, "I'm not sure if now is a good tim-"

"Do I look like I care? Answer me, Will!"

With another surreptitious glance, he tried again. "Don't you think someone might be watching us? This might not be a good idea-"

"Answer me. Now."

Grumbling, Will gave a weary sigh. These days, he felt like he'd exposed far too much of his broken, rotting interior. He hated feeling exposed, vulnerable, fragile. He hated it, but with Halt's searching, pointed questions and Gilan's quiet guilt, they were all feelings he was intimately acquainted with. Wearily, he answered, "Yes, Evanlyn. I wanted to die. I don't know if I would've jumped, but I wanted to."

Not even blinking at the use of her fake name, Cassandra pressed, "And what about now? Do you still want to?"

Everything inside Will rebelled at the thought of having to answer. _But,_ he thought wryly, _if I don't answer her, she'll probably follow me all the way to Redmont. I'll never be rid of her._ Again, the thought of lying occurred to him, but once again he shoved it away. He was sick of lying.

"Yes," he snapped. "Yes, I want to die. Right now. If we were standing on a tower, I'd be tempted to jump. Happy?"

"Will," she started, but he interrupted. Now that he'd started, he wanted to finish. He was done being the quiet, servile boy that told everyone what he was feeling and submitted to everyone else's wishes.

"I'm broken, Evanlyn! Is that what you want to hear? Or maybe that I have panic attacks daily or that'd I have nightmares if I didn't _drug_ myself? Does hearing about how screwed up I am help you out, or are you just some sick human being?"

For a long moment after his outburst, they just stared at each other. In vague horror, Will realized two things: one, what he'd just said, and two, that the Princess's eyes were filling with tears.

"Eva- Cassandra, I'm so sorry," he said, mortified by his behavior. "I don't know what came over me. I-I swear I don't think of you like that, I'm just so..." he stopped. He wouldn't go around making excuses. "I'm so sorry," he said again.

She nodded, but her eyes still looked a little hurt. "Never mind that, though. I just want to know one thing. Are you getting better?"

Stunned at her selflessness, he could only look at her for a second. "I'm processing better, I guess. Other than that, though, not really. What about you?"

Cassandra shook her head, a wry, sad smile tilting the corners of her lips up. "I have nightmares every night. The palace doctor keeps trying to get me to take sleeping draughts, but I refuse them. Now that I'm home, I'm starting to get panic attacks, too. They're not fun."

"No, they're not," Will agreed. For a few seconds, no one said anything.

"Will, are you...are you leaving tomorrow? With Halt?"

He hesitated. But there was no way around it, so he nodded.

"Oh." She looked down, troubled. "I-I guess we should say goodbye now, then. You Rangers love getting up at the crack of dawn, after all." The joke was weak, but Will managed a smile anyway.

"Goodbye, Cassandra."

"Goodbye, Will."

They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. In Cassandra's eyes, Will saw everything they could've been to each other. In Will's, she saw everything they had been.

And both understood that this was their real goodbye. For what Ranger could court a Princess?

They embraced, holding each other for much longer than would have been deemed proper for a Princess and subject or even for two friends. When they pulled away, both pretended the other's eyes weren't damp and glassy.

"Goodbye," Cassandra whispered again. Her voice cracked.

Will just nodded and turned away. A single tear slid down his cheek.

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur. Gilan, Halt, and Will set out at dawn the next morning, the Corps Commandant the only one awake to see them off. The three of them traveled together for some time before Gilan at last had to separate from them to go back to his own fief. The parting was almost as painful for Will as the one between Cassandra and he, with the apprentice barely managing to hold back his tears.

Gilan, for his part, promised to pay them a visit in a few weeks, to, in his words, check to make sure Will hadn't forgotten everything Gilan had taught him. But no matter how many assurances the young Ranger made, Will still felt a deep hollowness in his chest the farther apart the three of them got.

Halt, instantly ascertaining what was going on, forced Will to tell him everything about their surroundings, from random tracks to the time of day. By sundown, Will had ended up having to tell Halt how many rabbits had crossed their path in the last day, what the time of day was in increments of a half-hour, exactly what he'd do if they were to run across a group of bandits, and the political state of every region of Hibernia (the grizzled Ranger seemed obsessed with the place). The last thing, of course, he had no clue about, claiming as his excuse the fact he'd been in Skandia for a year. Halt told him that was absolutely no excuse and gave him a ten-minute lecture.

By the time the Ranger finally decided to make camp, Will was ready to curl up on the ground and fall asleep. One look at his master, however, assured him that that wasn't a possibility in the near future.

"Gilan's been teaching you about our double-knife defense technique," Halt told him. "I've no doubt he was a competent teacher in that, but I'm also certain he neglected to teach you anything of combat without any weapons." He raised an eyebrow at Will, who nodded. "I know I've taught you a little of this, but," he gave Will a wry look, "I doubt you remember any of it."

Will looked away.

Halt's mouth tightened. He'd been expecting the boy to reply with a grin and a good-humored remark, but Halt had to continually remind himself that Will wasn't like that anymore. And, despite the Ranger's hopes, might never be like that again.

"Well, come at me."

Will hesitated. Growing impatient, Halt spread his arms out and repeated his previous sentence, this time adding, "Get on with it!"

Galvanized into action, Will lunged, directing an undercut that Halt dodged with, in Will's mind, far too much ease. He expected Halt to make some comment about Will's slowness, or something to that effect, but the Ranger said nothing, merely directing his own blow towards Will.

It continued like that for some time; Will would ineffectually attempt to land a blow on Halt. Then the Ranger would respond with a swift, retaliatory blow of his own, most of which Will didn't manage to dodge. Will was knocked down more times than he cared to count, but as Halt remained silent, merely watching him drag himself up to standing once more, Will didn't dare quit.

Finally, Halt held up his hands. "That's enough," he said. "I suppose that wasn't bad, seeing as you haven't been able to practice for over a year." He nodded as if to himself and turned to Abelard, rummaging through his pack. "We won't do anything else today. Would you mind making a fire?"

Knowing Halt really meant _make dinner for us,_ Will nodded obligingly and went to kindle a fire. They'd shot several squirrels on horseback, so Will didn't have to hunt for anything. Not really feeling like making a stew, he simply skinned the animals, put them on a stick, and set them to roast. If Halt didn't want to eat roasted meat, well, he could make a stew himself.

As the two sat down to eat their meal, Will suddenly felt a sense of foreboding. He hadn't been alone with Halt for this long since before Skandia, and the last time he'd been alone with Halt for any length of time, Will had ended up telling his master about the warmweed. With a flash of horror, he realized he'd completely forgotten to add in the tiny little fact that Will had been whipped as a slave, mostly for- before the warmweed, anyway- standing up for the other slaves.

No, that wasn't right. Will hid a grimace. He hadn't forgotten, so much as hadn't wanted to tell Halt. But that was a foolish move on his part; Halt had seemed...shaken, almost, by Will almost dying. Will knew he would never again get a better chance to tell his mentor about that than he'd already gotten. Now, Halt was more likely to whip Will himself than to accept Will's tale and never speak of it again.

Will fought another grimace. Halt's punishments were, apparently, legendary among the Ranger Corps. As Halt's apprentice of technically three years, the boy was well-acquainted with them. Halt had an ingenious mind for punishment, but he'd still stoop to the corporal side of things occasionally. When Will had told Baron Arald of Halt's threat to tan Will's backside, that hadn't exactly been an unheard of thing for Halt to threaten, even though it'd never happened.

But although that had never come to pass, he'd still been thrown into a creek, hit over the head with Halt's longbow, and several other painful things. And that didn't even count things like being forced to sleep in a tree, being denied dinner, or the other creative and uncomfortable things Will had gone through. Will had always been mischievous, and although he had a sneaking suspicion that Halt liked pranking other people, the grim Ranger was not at all pleased to be the subject of such things. And, well, there were only so many people to prank in the middle of the woods.

Whereas before Skandia, the thought of being subject to something like whipping or even being hit with the intent to punish wouldn't have made Will bat an eye, now it generated nausea. Every time Will considered it, it only brought back ice-hot pain or the thought of a particularly cruel overseer's sadistic laugh as he beat Will. One especially vicious scar slicing down the length of his spine ached with the memory.

Halt was nothing like the Skandian overseers. Will knew that. He also knew that Halt would never hurt him as badly as even the nicest (Will used that word broadly) overseer. But...Will still had a feeling something very, very bad would happen if Halt ever hit him outside of training.

Still, thinking about it would hardly help matters. If Halt hit him, Halt hit him. There wasn't anything Will could do except pray he wouldn't fall to pieces when that happened. So the boy cleaned up his dinner and curled into a ball, facing away from Halt as the Ranger took up position to start the first watch.

* * *

The next few days passed in much the same way. They rode from dawn till sundown, dismounting hourly to run beside their horses in the way that Rangers did when on a march. It was a routine none of the Corps much liked, but it saved their horses, and Will hated having to ask more of Tug than his loyal horse could give. Halt continued training Will, asking him things like the best strategic positioning for cavalry in the forest; on a hill; on a plain surrounded by the enemy. Will's head started hurting more with every scenario his teacher forced him to process. Obviously, the warmweed still hadn't worn off yet.

The more likely option was that Will simply wasn't used to thinking that way again after a year of laxity, but Will was rather too fond of blaming everything on the warmweed- and thus blaming himself. Even he knew it wasn't his fault he was enslaved, but he felt there would always be a time he'd blame himself for getting addicted.

After sundown, they'd find a campsite and Halt would instruct Will on something- usually hand-to-hand combat, since he'd found Will was incredibly rusty and was a firm believer in being able to defend yourself no matter the weaponry you had. Halt knew that Will's archery and knife-throwing skills were quite good for an apprentice, and even though he still had Will shoot most of their food, he didn't make the boy practice that in the evenings. He'd had practice enough at Castle Araluen; a week's reprieve wouldn't kill him.

One thing Halt couldn't practice with Will very well, however, was double knife defense. Since, unlike Gilan, Halt had no sword, it was pretty much impossible to practice the moves Gilan had drilled into Will's head. A Ranger's saxe knife was heavy and finely made, but alone, it was no match for the sheer power of a sword, which was precisely why such a defense had been created. And although Halt was good enough with his double knives, it wasn't anything like fighting with a swordsman. After a few minutes, they had to give it up.

"We'll have you practice with the second year cadets at Redmont," Halt told him, sheathing his knives. "They should at least know which end of their sword is which." Will smiled a little; not as big as his usual grin, but a smile nonetheless. "In the meantime, let's see how much Gilan's taught you of unseen movement."

Will floundered for a moment, unsure of what that was supposed to mean. Halt sighed. "You have two minutes to hide. Go."

 _Two minutes!? Gilan always gave me five, at least!_ But knowing that Halt wouldn't budge now that he'd made up his mind, Will ran off, darting into the underbrush. Will's first instinct was to climb, remembering from years before how rarely people ever looked up...but Halt was hardly part of 'people.' He was a trained Ranger and he knew Will and his climbing skills. Which meant that the Ranger would expect his apprentice to climb.

So that meant climbing was out of the picture. Will had to do something Halt didn't expect. The boy glanced around, halting his running, aware that he'd spent a minute already and had less than another to pick a hiding place. After a few more seconds, his gaze fell on a patch of sunlight filtering in through a thick canopy of leaves and he remembered Gilan's words to him. _Hide in plain sight,_ the young Ranger had told him. _People never look where they're certain you won't be._ Although Will had his doubts about Halt conforming to the same practices as the infamous 'people,' Will had been trained to remain stock-still for hours on end. He was confident he could pull it off.

Will ran to a tree, making sure his footprints led straight to the trunk, and jumped lithely onto a nearby rock. He paused for a second, not knowing where else to jump, before leaping to another rock. In that way he made his way across the clearing until he reached the light-and-shadow filled area. In one economical motion he pulled his hood over his head and stilled.

He couldn't hear Halt coming, but that meant nothing. When he slowly swept his gaze from side to side, he couldn't see anything, either. Again, however, that meant nothing. At ground level in the forest, Will's vision was limited to only a few meter radius. The Ranger could be within eyesight of the clearing or he could be all the way on the other side of the forest. Will had absolutely no idea.

Another few minutes passed. Finally, Will heard the faintest sound, almost imperceptible to someone who wasn't used to a forest's sounds. But Will was, and he knew that the sound- the quiet crackle of a branch bending backwards- was Halt. Will was already motionless, so he had nothing left to do but wait, moving only his eyes as he tried to figure out where Halt was coming from.

Too late, he realized the direction the sound had come from. He instinctively wanted to turn around to look behind him- where, perhaps even now, Halt was moving- but refrained. Sudden movement, he'd known since his first year with Halt, was the surest giveaway possible. Will would just have to hope that Halt hadn't spotted him. In any case, he refused to give himself away.

There was a flicker of movement out of the corner of Will's eye. He strained his peripheral vision towards it, wishing he could move his head but not daring. Halt was as good as Gilan was- much more experienced, but slightly less talented. In a few year's time, the former apprentice would surpass the master, but right then, they were equal.

Halt was moving with even steps, only moving what was absolutely necessary to keep his stride measured. It was nearly impossible to track him but Will did his best. Unfortunately, the Ranger didn't follow Will's tracks like he'd hoped, instead scouring the clearing. For a moment, his eyes passed right over Will, and he had to fight the urge to tense up. But Halt didn't even pause in his once-over. Will knew well that a Ranger, when motionless, could be virtually impossible to spot. When one factored in the strange, mottled pattern of the shadows Will stood in, it was no wonder that Halt had not spotted him.

Halt's gaze turned finally to Will's tracks. His expression was impossible to read, so Will had no idea if Halt thought it probable that Will had scaled the tree. In any case, the Ranger turned his back on his hidden apprentice a moment later, meaning Will now had no hope of knowing what Halt was thinking. The Ranger stepped closer to the tree, head tilting up a fraction. Will knew it was then or never.

He began moving towards Halt, stopping whenever he came across a good hiding spot in case Halt should suspect something and turn around suddenly. It took longer that way, but Will knew it was worth it if he didn't get caught. And indeed, Halt definitely seemed to be taking his time looking at the tracks. The apprentice wondered why he was taking so long but decided not to worry about it.

When he was close enough to his master to make out the mottling of his cloak in detail, Will jumped. But Halt twisted, impossibly swift, and dodged. Caught off guard and off balance, Will fell, restrained only by Halt's grip on his collar.

"Not bad," the Ranger conceded with a slight nod. He released Will's cloak and let the boy scramble to right himself again.

"You knew I was behind you?" Will asked, crestfallen. When his master simply nodded again, he pushed through a surge of self-loathing to ask, "How?"

"You went quiet sooner than I'd have expected," Halt stated. "If you were really climbing a tree like your tracks suggested, it would've taken you longer to reach a sufficient height to hide from me. Even as fast a climber as you are, I would've been able to get close enough to hear you, even with a two minute headstart. Also," he motioned towards one set of footprints near the middle of the clearing. "What do you see?"

Will hesitated. Slowly, carefully taking the questioning tone out of his voice, he said, "it looks a little deeper than the others."

"Which means?"

Will looked down, shame-faced. "I stood there for awhile, thinking."

Halt nodded. "And what about the ones leading to the tree?"

More and more ashamed by the second, Will mumbled, "they're deeper, too." At Halt's expectant look, he continued on, even quieter, "I wanted to make sure you saw them."

"It was a dead giveaway," Halt told him. "Of course I would've seen the tracks; the ground is soft enough that tracking isn't difficult at all, even with the training you've had. When I saw your footprints suddenly become much clearer and more defined, it meant you were either throwing a fit and stomping your feet around or that you wanted to make sure I was following you." A hint of smile ghosted across Halt's face. "I didn't really think it was the latter, so that left two options: either you were in the clearing still, waiting to surprise me, or you'd somehow managed to get all the way back without a trace."

"How'd you know it wasn't the second one?"

Halt gave him a look. "I circled all the way around the clearing, knowing you'd gone in there and wanting to see if you'd gone back out first. Even if you were avoiding making tracks as best you could, it's impossible to go even a short distance without landing on the ground once. I didn't see a single footprint, so I knew you must still be in there. Which left only one more scenario."

"Oh," Will said, feeling remarkably stupid. He ducked his head, willing away the hot, angry tears that sprung to his eyes unbidden. _Of course you couldn't fool Halt,_ his mind taunted. _You're nothing but a good-for-nothing, druggie of an apprentice._

"Don't be too hard on yourself." Halt's tone was unexpectedly gentle as he stepped closer to Will and put a hand on his shoulder. "It was a good idea. You would've fooled most anyone, maybe even trained trackers."

"But not everyone," Will muttered, unable to look up. "I shouldn't have even tried."

"I don't believe you really had a choice in the matter," Halt said rather mildly. "And after all, practice makes perfect. You need to learn what you did wrong before you can do something right."

Will nodded mutely. Without another word, the two of them started back towards the campsite.

 **A/N:** Mostly a filler chapter, but it was necessary to draw a link between their time in Castle Araluen and when they got back to Redmont. Next chapter will hopefully have something else happen.


	14. Chapter 14

As the bright, searing light of midday washed down on them, Will and Halt rounded the final bend that brought them to the longed-for sight of Redmont.

"We're home," Will whispered, as if to himself. "We're almost home."

Redmont Castle had never looked so welcoming. He turned to Halt and managed a small, genuine smile that the Ranger returned with a softer version of his grim expression and a nod. Tug and Abelard, obviously feeling the relief of their riders, tossed their heads a bit and nickered to each other, carrying on a private conversation only the two of them understood.

Struck by sudden fear, Will asked, "Are we going to see Baron Arald?" If Halt had told the King everything he knew of Skandia, surely he wouldn't have to tell his baron, too?

Much to Will's dismay, Halt nodded. "The King's already been given the official report. Although Arald probably expects us to give him a report as well, at this point it's only a formality. It's not necessary for him to know anything except what's already known; Princess Cassandra is back, and so are we." Halt grimaced slightly. "However, I've not yet been reinstated into a fief. Which means we should probably pay him a visit."

Will's heart sank. After being away from Redmont for over a year, what would people think of him? Although he certainly didn't want them to know about his enslavement, the thought that he'd be undeservingly hailed as a hero was enough to turn his stomach. And Alyss...

Will still didn't know what he felt about Alyss.

Over the past year, the only thing he'd thought of was survival, and occasionally, Cassandra. Will acknowledged that there had been something between he and the Princess. But he was a Ranger. An apprentice Ranger, but still a Ranger, and his status was as far beneath the Princess's as to make even the thought of courting her laughable. At the same time, Will couldn't bear the thought of anyone else but Cassandra.

And anyway, it had only been one kiss. One kiss between he and Alyss, and that was two years ago. In the year he'd been away, Will was certain that the seventeen-year-old would've gotten over him, if Alyss had even liked him that much in the first place.

 _And,_ he couldn't help but think, _once she finds out about what's happened, she'll like you even less._ He would've liked to think _if,_ but he wouldn't insult Alyss like that. She was a diplomat, used to knowing and keeping secrets. If Halt didn't decide to tell her, she'd probably figure something was off on her own and interrogate Will about it herself. At that point, Will knew the only way to keep her away was to simply keep her away from him.

By the time Will pulled his thoughts back to reality, they were already riding through the courtyard. The guards hailed them with much enthusiasm- more for Halt than for Will, he noted with relief, wishing he could just fade into the background and become invisible- and once they dismounted, they were surrounded by the castle staff. They wanted to know everything about Skandia, about if Horace had really been knighted as a second year cadet, if the Princess had really become a slave, if-

Will shut them out.

Halt, grim-faced as ever, not so politely shoved through the forming crowd and Will followed, shooting apologetic looks and murmuring _sorry_ in an attempt to make up for his master. Once they were inside, the two seamlessly moved into the shadows, their common desire not to be questioned or followed rendering them united. Once they were outside the Baron's office, they made themselves known to the guards and were let in promptly.

"Halt!" the Baron cried. "And Will, my boy! How long has it been? Ten months? Ele-"

"Fourteen and a half for Will, thirteen for me," Halt said steadily, almost coolly. Will wondered for a second that Halt knew the exact amount of time, almost like he'd been counting, then tossed the thought away. It was Halt. Of course he would know the exact amount of time they'd been away.

"Oh, yes."

There were a few seconds' silence. Then Halt nodded a few times. "As I have now been reinstated and restored to my former status as a Ranger, I..." he paused. "I would like to ask to be reinstated here, at Redmont fief."

Arald's eyes widened. He started laughing, an action that made Halt's eyes narrow a little, and said, "God's sakes, man! You don't even have to ask. Of course I want you back, Halt. Gilan's an accomplished Ranger now, but he's not as good as you. You're the greatest Ranger in the Corps, past, present, or future."

"I wouldn't go that far," Halt said mildly, "But I do get the job done."

Arald grinned at him broadly. "Still as modest as ever, I see. Well, welcome back Halt, and you, Will. It'll be nice to have you two back. Lady Pauline and Alyss have been quite out of sorts ever since you two left."

"Lady Pauline?" Halt questioned, looking surprised. "Out of sorts, you say?"

Arald nodded. "Just little things here and there, usually when someone mentioned you." He grinned at the Ranger, who did not look in the least bit amused. "And young Alyss has been rather antsy as well once your return was made known."

Will nodded vaguely at the knowing look the Baron sent his way, too lost in thought to even think about the reason Alyss had been so 'antsy.' He just wanted to ride back to Halt's cabin- back home. That was the first place he'd truly called home. The ward had been a good place to live, and his wardmates on the whole nice, but it was nothing like the sheer sense of comfort and belonging he had from staying with Halt. Even if he _did_ have to do all the chores.

"Well," the Baron said, obviously sensing their longing to get away, "I won't keep you any further. I'll send a courier over tomorrow to bring you all of the past year's reports."

Halt muttered something under his breath that sounded oddly like _damn paperwork_ but gave a nod. In the next moment, he was gone, Will following behind him almost as swiftly.

The Baron watched as the door clicked silently shut. "I'll never get used to that," he said to himself.

The two Rangers passed silently through the castle again and remounted their horses, taking off in a mild canter towards their final destination. Home.

The last leg of their journey was, in Will's opinion, the longest. Even though Halt's cabin was hardly that far away from the castle- maybe a half hour's ride, at the very most- it felt like torture. He didn't realize he was impatiently bouncing in his saddle until Tug turned his head around and gave Will a look that told him to kindly stop doing so or he'd find himself headfirst in a mound of dirt. With that said, Will ceased all movement possible.

Once the house was in sight, however, Will could restrain himself no longer. He urged Tug into a gallop, leaping off his horse the moment they reached the porch. Fourteen months, and he was finally, _finall_ y home.

"Halt," he found himself saying, turning his blurred vision to his mentor, calmly dismounting Abelard a little distance away. "Halt, we're _home."_ Without waiting for the Ranger to respond, he ran- straight into Halt's waiting arms. Halt's grip tightened around Will, one hand stroking the boy's hair, and Will, torn between tears and laughter, hugged him back just as tightly, mumbling nonsense he would later be unable to remember.

But Halt, a tiny flicker of a smile on his grizzled face, would know that Will was only saying _I missed this so much_ and _we're home_ over and over again.

After about a minute, Tug nuzzled Will. Suddenly embarrassed- was he to fall to pieces every time something like this happened?- he pulled away and lifted an awkward gaze to Halt.

"I'm sor-"

"I'm glad we're home too, Will," Halt interrupted quietly.

The two Rangers, master and apprentice, tended to their horses and walked back into the house side by side. The initial burst of happiness Will had felt began to fade to contentment, but it was one he could see was equal to Halt's own.

Once they set foot through the door, Halt took one look around and then raised an eyebrow at Will. "Look at all that dust," he said conversationally. "Looks like you'll have to clean it up, won't you?"

Will groaned.

* * *

After two weeks back at Redmont, everything fell apart.

In Hal's eyes, training had been going fairly well. Although he'd never tell Will, Halt was convinced that Will's archery and knife-throwing were already almost good enough to get him through third year assessment. Gilan's one month tutoring session in unseen movement had given Will a huge boost, and Halt felt confident that, in the remaining five months- if the Gathering was indeed moved up to March- it'd be good enough to pass him. As for strategics, Will had a natural knack for planning, even if it was matched with an equal dislike for geography. All in all, Halt felt optimistic that Will would be able to pass his third year.

However, that was Halt's point of view.

For Will, things were very different. Every day, his brain seemed to grow more tortured. The new, sporadic but no less damaging self-loathing he had to deal with was crippling. Will had doubted himself before, of course, but it had never been this bad. It would hit him randomly- sometimes after a failed shot, sometimes during a botched strategy exercise or even in a combat session with Halt.

Most often, however, it would hit at night. In the minutes between taking Erak's sleeping draught and falling asleep, he'd attack every failed action, every wrong word he'd made that day. The critical light he viewed himself in would accept nothing less than perfection, and Will, damaged, tired, and empty, was about as far away from perfection as it got. Sometimes, even despite Gilan's words at Castle Araluen and Halt's actions that honestly couldn't really be taken in any other way than that Halt cared for Will, he still wondered.

Over the past few days, his brain had managed to find a new way to torment him- a way that got around Halt's banishment and exile and was exacerbated by the Ranger's harsh training. Will wasn't sure, but he felt like Halt was being harder on him than he ever had been before, and that was what led to a new doubt.

Halt _had_ cared for him. It was basically impossible to dispute that the man who'd purposely set himself up for possible death and at the very least, lifelong banishment in order to save his apprentice, hadn't cared for his apprentice.

 _But..._ Will knew he wasn't the same anymore. And eventually, he couldn't help but think, _what if Halt doesn't like how much I've changed?_

Certainly, the Ranger didn't act that much different. But it was the little things, like a harsh word after Will messed up in training or the times when Halt would suddenly go silent after Will said or did something in a way he knew Old Will would never have done. And it all made sense, after all. Old Will had been cheerful, friendly, and personable. He'd been brave, resourceful, and loyal. Present Will was quiet, withdrawn, depressed, and fragile. He sometimes felt echoes of his former self rise whenever he tended to Tug or made a near-impossible shot with his bow, but they were few and far between.

And so, as Will sat in his bed, he stared at the ceiling and doubted. Will had always heard the phrase _love your neighbor as yourself._ Will reckoned it meant he was supposed to love himself, but couldn't find the wherewithal to do anything except hate. If he couldn't find a way to like his present self, then how the hell was Halt supposed to?

What Will didn't know was Halt's harsh words had stemmed merely from having to deal with the unpleasantness of the piles of paperwork he'd been working through in order to catch up. And he certainly didn't know that Halt's sudden silences were only his sadness and guilt over seeing Will so drastically changed. But Halt, busy as he was, only knew that Will seemed to be stable for now. And Will, burdened with trauma and depression and overwhelming guilt, was completely oblivious to the fact that Halt cared for him just as much as he always had.

After two weeks, everything came to a head when Will came to the horrifying realization that he was nearly out of sleeping medicine. Will had only two night's supply left, and no conceivable way to get any more. Although Will was clueless to the true nature of Halt's actions, that didn't make him a fool. His nightmares wouldn't have just disappeared; if anything, after having suppressed them for so long, they'd be worse than ever.

Will knew of only one place he could resupply his stock, and that was the castle infirmary. But that would mean having to think up some idea to go into town in the first place. He thought for a moment, slowly pacing around his bedroom, when a sudden burst of clarity came to him and he remembered what day it was to be two days from then.

"Halt," he called, directing his voice to the wall. It was possible the Ranger was asleep by now, but even if he were, Will knew the Ranger was a light enough sleeper as to be instantly awake.

"Unless it's an emergency," a tired, grumpy voice replied from the next door, "I don't want to know."

"It's my birthday in two days."

A pause. "You want to see your friends, don't you?"

That hadn't been Will's plan at all, but he knew that saying no would only raise Halt's suspicions. Which meant he'd have to see Alyss. Well, as long as he got his medicine, Will could do it. After all, it wasn't like seeing Alyss was a hardship- it was simply what she might find out and how she might view Will once she did.

"Do you think they'll be free?"

"I have no idea," Halt said, sounding even grumpier. "Do I look like a seer?"

Will wisely kept silent. This, at least, Will knew was not because of him. Halt had always been known to get angry when woken up in the middle of the night- but then again, who wouldn't be?

Halt sighed, loud enough Will could make it out even through the wall. "We'll find out tomorrow. Or _today,_ rather, seeing how it's probably past midnight by now. Go to sleep, Will."

The apprentice knew better than to argue. "G'night, Halt."

"Goodnight."

In moments, Will felt the sleeping drug kick in, and he was fast asleep within the next minute. He remembered nothing else until Will's door opened at six in the morning and Halt's voice told him to wake up. He scrambled out of bed and hastily dressed, running a hand through his awful bedhead and stumbling to the table where Halt had breakfast made already.

Although Will half expected Halt to refuse him coffee as he sat down and reached for it, the Ranger didn't, offering him a cup with a grim look that said _you're lucky this time. Try it again and you won't be so fortunate next time._ The two silently began their breakfast, Will fluctuating between wanting to ask Halt about going to town and not wanting to anger his master.

"If you can get all your chores done before noon, we'll leave for Castle Redmont."

Despite the happiness that should've brought him, Will looked at his mentor a little distrustfully. That was too easy. Now that they'd been back two weeks, chores only took around an hour or two to do, depending on the day. Beating the rugs took awhile, but Will had just done that yesterday; he wouldn't need to for another week.

Halt, apparently seeing the look on Will's face, continued with something almost like satisfaction, _"And_ once you've shot two hundred arrows, completed five laps around the trail, and told me how you'd deal with," he motioned to a paper sitting next to his plate, "this report right here."

Now, Will's distrust morphed into horror. "That's impossible! Halt-" but he clamped his jaw shut. If he protested, Halt would simply add more on. Halt raised an eyebrow, gave him a _that's what I thought_ look, and motioned at the door. "Well, best get started," he said mildly.

Will abandoned his half-finished breakfast and almost sprinted out the door, frantic to complete his chores as quickly as possible. Two _hundred_ arrows! True, Will could shoot about five arrows in the span of three seconds, but he couldn't keep that up. Added in to that was the fact that when Halt said two hundred, he didn't mean two hundred faulty shots. Will had to shoot every single one into at least the center portion of a target, and if he let too much time elapse between shots, it didn't count. With those restrictions, it could easily take Will over two hours.

He glanced up at the sun on the way over to the woodpile. It was about 6:30 right now. If he took two hours on chores and two and a half with archery, that'd take him to eleven, which left him only an hour to run five laps. Seeing as each lap along the trail Halt had specifically marked for Will took around fifteen minutes...

Will gulped. _Alright, let's make that an hour and a half on chores._

As he was traipsing to the archery range, he suddenly remembered the last thing Halt had told him to do and groaned, hitting his head against a tree. Who knew what was in that report? It could be anything, from a serial killer terrorizing the villagers to just a simple drunken brawl. Will had no idea how long it'd take him to plan out a strategy for that. Halt seemed to find great delight in pointing out every possible error and fault in Will's plans.

 _So, two hours on archery._ He grimly surveyed the targets and lay down on the ground, rolling to his side and readying his bow. Halt insisted he learn to shoot with accuracy from every position. Will had had to shoot lying on his back, from a tree, on horseback- even, to Will's chagrin, tied upside down to a post (Will was still convinced that last one was a punishment for putting pepper into Halt's coffee cup). This would be near-impossible to do in two hours, but Will had to try.

* * *

Will glanced up at the sky, panting. _It's almost noon. I have to hope that whatever Halt's report is about, it's not hard. If it is, I'm screwed._ As he rounded the bend and jogged up to the porch, Halt walked through the door, paper in hand.

"You took longer than I expected," was the Ranger's only comment as he sat down in a chair and motioned Will to do the same. Heaving for air, Will obeyed. "This report is about a missing horse stolen by bandits. What would you do?"

Taken aback, Will stared at his mentor. _A missing horse? Is that even worthy of a Ranger's attention?_ "A...missing horse?" Too late, he realized what he'd done.

Halt glared. "I asked you a question. Don't answer me back with one. Come on, Will, use your brain."

That wasn't something the Ranger would've used to say to Will- or, at least, he wouldn't have used that tone. He blinked perhaps a little more than necessary and nodded, wracking his brain for a response. He would've liked to argue with Halt that a missing horse was hardly Ranger business, but Will was running out of time. It was possible he'd be able to sneak away from Halt long enough to get the medicine today, therefore calling off the need to join his friends. Although he wasn't sure how he'd get out of it once it was scheduled.

"I...guess I'd track the bandits down and apprehend them."

A sigh. "And _how,_ exactly would you do that?"

Will faltered. "Well, I'd go to the place the horse was seen last and track it-"

"And what if the ground there is too trampled to make out that one horse's tracks?"

"Then I'd scour the surrounding ground to see which tracks fit the ones I'm looking for. After I find the bandits, I'll either kill or disable them all and lead the horse-"

"What if they already sold off the horse?" Halt broke in. Will blanched. He hadn't thought of that.

"I'd...tell the new owners that they got the new horse illegally."

"But they paid for it."

"They paid for it from a thief!"

Halt shrugged. "They still would've bought it with their own money. It's very hard to convince people to give up something they paid for."

Will groaned. "Okay, so I'll track the bandits down, find the money they got by their sale of the horse and a little extra to sweeten the deal, then get the horse back _that_ way." He looked at Halt, expecting the man to find another inconsistency or way it could've gone wrong, but Halt just nodded.

"Thinking of giving them a little extra in addition to what they paid is a good idea. It'll help soothe wounded pride over buying a stolen horse."

Glancing up at the sky again, Will asked, _"Now_ can we go? I've done everything you asked."

Halt stood and folded the report up. "Impatient, aren't we?"

"I've waited all morning," Will pleaded, standing up as well and hopping from one foot to the next in a show of impatience much like his old self. For a second, he thought he saw a pleased, almost happy gleam in Halt's eyes, but Will decided he was seeing things.

"Go and saddle Tug. I'll put this report up."


	15. Chapter 15

It took all of thirty minutes for master and apprentice to reach Redmont Castle. The sun had reached nigh-sweltering heat and Will grimaced uncomfortably, unused to feeling hot or even warm. He shifted uneasily, hating the sweat trickling down his forehead. If Halt noticed, he said nothing.

As they rode through the gates, they had nearly a half-dozen greetings within a minute. "They're certainly happy to see us back, aren't they," Halt muttered, lifting a hand in acknowledgement as a guard shouted a happy _glad you're back, Halt!_

"Happy to see _you_ back," Will corrected with a grin. Halt's eyes flicked over and his lips tightened when he saw how forced it was. "I don't think they really care that I'm back."

"You don't think?" Halt repeated questioningly. "You're an apprentice. You're not ready to think."

Will huffed, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, but stayed silent. Halt had hoped he'd be able to distract his apprentice with a little good-natured ribbing, but it was not to be. Will seemed rather set on thinking lowly of himself. Halt had never really had self-esteem issues, so he really didn't know what to say to make it better.

 _Crowley would,_ he thought with an inward sigh. _He'd know exactly how to make Will feel better._

They pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted. Halt turned to Will. "I'll talk to Lady Pauline and Nigel. You can go to Master Chubb."

Will gave Halt a pleading look. "Oh, please Halt, can't you talk to them all? I don't want to get hit with Master Chubb's ladle again..."

"If I'm talking to all of them, then what are you going to do?"

"Uh..." he frantically searched around for a good excuse and gave Halt a huge grin. "Climb the Baron's tower."

"You'd better not," Halt said. "I'd hope that you wouldn't have forgotten the punishment I promised you if you ever tried that stunt again."

Will fought down a flinch. Halt hadn't overtly stated any punishment, but the mere threat of it had made Will ardently promise never to do it. "Just joking, Halt," he mumbled, shuffling his feet. "I haven't been here for a while. Want to revisit all my favorite places and such." Halt looked rather unconvinced, so Will added, "After all, if we ever have to defend this castle from invaders, it'll be easier if I know it better."

With a sigh, Halt gave in. "Fine. If you're not back here in an hour, I'll go looking for you myself."

Will nodded obediently and set off in the opposite direction of the infirmary. An hour was plenty of time to sneak in and get the medicine, and if he set off straight for that part of the castle in the first place, Halt might become suspicious. In the meantime, he did just what he'd told Halt he would; he climbed his old favorite tree, listening to the gentle chirping of insects and feeling a warm breeze against his face, so foreign to the chill and silence of Skandia.

Sometimes, despite the warmth of Araluen's late summertime, Will still felt unbearably cold. He knew it was partially because of malnutrition, partially from trauma. The malnutrition part, at least, Will was beginning to fix. The month at Castle Araluen had helped a lot, but now that they were back at Redmont, Will could feel himself weakening again. Halt had never been all that big on food, stating that a big meal could slow you down before a mission. Will generally only got two meals a day.

And although that would've been just fine for old Will, present Will had already experienced many of malnutrition's debilitating symptoms. In all honesty, Will wondered if he might've filled out a little over the past year, had he been fed correctly. Instead, he'd been maltreated and fed just enough to keep him alive. He was all too accustomed to the constant fatigue, dizziness and trembling that came from starvation, and he knew two meals a day wouldn't be enough to stave them off. Will needed three meals, three much bigger ones than he'd been getting. But he was all too aware of how Halt had been speaking to him lately and was all too unaware of the cause. Will would much rather live with his symptoms than become a burden to Halt.

Will was no longer wracked with chills like he had been in Skandia, thank God, but he was weak and cold and tired much of the time. He could see the faint indentation of each of his ribs whenever he peeked underneath his shirt, and it disturbed him enough that he decided never to look at his bare torso if at all possible. Seeing the multitude of whip-scars across his back was bad enough. Will didn't want to have to see the evidence of his starvation as well.

He glanced up at the sky. The sun was the slightest bit higher in the sky, which meant he'd probably spent half an hour up there. Panicking slightly, Will scrambled down the tree, fading into the shadows as he walked towards the infirmary.

Over the years, Will had gotten into enough scrapes with Horace and nearly gotten killed enough times during his apprenticeship that he'd become fairly familiar with the layout of the sickbay. Candlelight was the only source of light for the expansive room and the four healers seemed occupied enough that Will knew he could slip past them easily, so he did, walking easily past them to where the medicine was kept.

He knelt down in front of the huge storage compartment and glanced over his shoulder. No one had noticed him, and he was far enough removed that any sound he made would be hard to hear. So Will gently, quietly worked the cabinet doors open and peered inside. Each one was labeled legibly enough, so Will sifted through them, looking for anything that had to do with relaxation or sleep. But then his fingers landed on one jar and he froze, disbelieving eyes scanning the label again. And again.

 _Warmweed Poultice - Painkiller_

Will nearly dropped the jar. He sucked in a panicked breath and backed away from the cabinet, forgetting himself in his terror and falling over backwards. Alarmed voices flooded his consciousness and seconds, minutes, hours later a concerned face was in front of his.

"...wrong? Ranger?"

 _Ranger?_ He looked around. Halt wasn't there. The voice repeated its question and Will realized it was talking about him.

"Not a Ranger," he mumbled, his own voice shaking, "just an apprentice."

A warm, gentle hand landed on his shoulder. He flinched, taken by surprise. He heard instructions to breathe and forced himself to comply.

"Young man." Will had pulled out of his panic sufficiently enough to realize it was a woman talking; worse, that it was one of the female healers talking. "Why were you trying to take our medicine?"

"I wasn't stealing!" Will said quickly, breathing quickening again. "I was going to leave money behind for it, I promise!"

"I believe you," she said, surprisingly. The healer's face was kind and Will felt a little of his fear ooze out of him at her reassurance. "But I need to know why you suddenly panicked. Did you see something in there?"

"I...uh..." Will floundered. There was no way he was telling this woman about his addiction, as kind as she seemed. "I was just a little surprised to see some of the things you had in there, is all."

She didn't look convinced. Thankfully, however, she didn't press any further. "What were you looking for? You might've been looking for the wrong kind of herb, after all."

"Oh...well, I just wanted some...um..." Will felt his face flush red with embarrassment, "some sleeping medicine. For my, um...for my nightmares."

He saw pity and compassion mingled together in the woman's eyes and flushed redder. "After the war, so many people had nightmares. It didn't seem to matter if they were peasant, warrior, statesman...the night terrors aren't picky." The healer stood up and turned to the cabinet, setting some of the fallen jars back upright and picking out a single bottle. "We're running low, but I'll give this last bottle to you, Ranger. You and your kind have helped us more than anyone else."

Will was so touched by her kindness that he didn't have the heart to correct her again on his title. "A-Are you sure? I have money, I can still pay for it."

The healer shook her head, but she was smiling. "What is it with Rangers unable to accept gifts? It's famous throughout the kingdom that Ranger Halt refused a reward for returning the Princess, and you, Will, refused an even greater one."

Will's heart thudded uncomfortably at the healer's knowledge of his name, but he'd also been a ward at the castle. It wasn't impossible that she would've picked it up from his years at Redmont, even if he didn't recall seeing this particular woman before. "Then I thank you for your gift." He hesitated, then added, "How long will this bottle last? And how much am I to take?"

"Take a spoonful every night before you go to bed. That bottle should hold..." the healer considered. "Maybe six week's worth in it."

Will nodded, relieved. He wouldn't have to worry about this for another month and a half. "Thank you again," he said and took the bottle.

The next moment, he was gone.

* * *

Will's heart felt much lighter as he strode back to where Tug and Abelard waited. He tucked the bottle into his pocket, thankful for the cloak that concealed the bulge. With this, he wouldn't have to worry about having nightmares- or worse, waking Halt up because of them. Even if it made it hard to get up in the morning, Will still knew it was infinitely better than having to walk around on eggshells around Halt. Or perhaps even being told off for waking the Ranger up in the middle of the night.

Near-silent footsteps sounded. Knowing they were Halt's, Will looked over at his mentor and asked dutifully, "What'd they say? Can they come? Where are we meeting up? How long-"

Halt cut Will off with a wave of his hand. "Yes, your ward-mates can come," he said. "I thought you might prefer having them back home, so they'll be there at noon tomorrow." Will breathed out a silent prayer of thanks for his foresight in getting the medicine today; if he hadn't, he wouldn't have ever got a chance. Will would've had to try sneaking out in the middle of the night.

"How long can they stay?"

Halt shrugged dismissively, mounting Abelard. "However long they want, as long as they're back in time to get back to their duties by the next day. Oh, and Master Chubb said that Jenny would be bringing lots of food."

Will nodded, mimicking his master's movements and mounting Tug. Although he still felt wary about seeing his ward-mates again, especially Alyss, the idea of Jenny's cooking was almost enough to dispel that. Surely, if the cheery, personable Jenny were there, it'd be alright. Will just had to set up a perfect facade for one day.

The ride back to the cabin was mostly silent, punctuated here and there by one or the other's comments. Halt seemed more at ease than he'd been since they'd left Castle Araluen, and privately Will wondered if it had something to do with the fact that Halt had had to visit Lady Pauline in order to ask her permission to let Alyss off. Will was naive, yes, but not deaf; Alyss had, behind carefully covered grins, informed him of the many rumors circulating around the two a few months into their respective apprenticeships.

By the time they were back, the sun informed them that it was around three o'clock. The two dismounted and tended to their horses, then Halt unsheathed his double knives and motioned Will to do the same.

"I was able to speak with Rodney today about double-knife defense," the Ranger said. "He was...joyful, to say the least, about having someone who actually knew what they were doing with double knives practicing with his cadets. I arranged for you to go over to the Battleschool twice a month and train with the cadets. Meanwhile, however, you'll be training with me."

"But didn't you say it was basically useless to try the double-knife defense without a sword?" Will asked, confused.

Halt gave him a look. "Did I ever say that that was what _we'd_ be learning?" When Will didn't respond, Halt continued, "It's not often you have to fight someone who has knives himself, but it does happen. It wouldn't do if you learned how to deal with a swordsman but were completely inept at fighting a knife-wielder. After all, the techniques used vary widely."

Halt briefly described in what ways they were different, putting Will through a few practice simulations. Once he was satisfied that Will wasn't completely clueless in how to handle melee combat with his knives, they began dueling.

When Halt had first tried to train Will in knife-wielding on their journey back to Redmont, Will had written off Halt's skill with knives as merely being average. Now he realized just how much Halt had been holding back on him.

"Since our blades aren't dull," Halt had told him before the fight had commenced, "Just tap on the place you could've scored a hit. It might bleed if one of us moves, but a scratch isn't anything to be worried about."

Now, thirty seconds in, Will was already bleeding from two different places and had been struck thrice. Will had no idea how Halt had managed to become so adept at dual knives- didn't he have enough just learning archery and how to throw knives?

However, he reflected grimly as Halt struck him again, leaving a thin slice right at Will's neck, that hardly mattered. The only things that did right then were that Halt knew how to fight using double knives and, more importantly, that Will did not.

"Stop." Halt drew back a step and ran his eyes up and down Will's form. They'd had a few bouts by then, and Will was bleeding from almost a dozen shallow cuts, ranging everywhere from his neck to his torso and even his legs- after all, sometimes an opponent simply wanted to disable you quickly instead of kill you. "That's enough for now. We'll practice some more tomorrow. Until then, I want you to work on your knife-throwing skills. If they're anything near the same as your melee combat skills, you've got a lot of work to be done."

Will took his mentor's blunt words in stride and nodded meekly. "Yes, Halt."

He sheathed his knives and strode over to the archery range. For the next few hours, the only sound that would've been heard by any who might've been passing by would only have been the repetitive thud-thud of his two knives striking the targets one after the other.

Once the sun set, Will walked back inside. Halt was making dinner, his famous stew that made Will's stomach rumble- loudly. Flushing, Will gave a sheepish grin as Halt turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"Hungry, are we?"

Will nodded, still embarrassed. "I didn't have lunch."

"We don't often have it."

The boy shrugged. "Didn't get to finish my breakfast, either. You told me to go do chores."

"So I did." Halt stirred the stew. "So I did."

Will glanced at the table. When he saw it was unset, he quickly set it, then retreated to his room when it was clear dinner wasn't ready yet. Old Will wouldn't have, Will knew, but he was tired and even if Halt had seemed a little less grim than he had been for the past few weeks, Will didn't feel like talking right then. Will was tired and drained, a common but no less annoying feeling he'd experienced over the last year.

Once he'd shut the door behind him, he stuck his hand in his pocket for the sleep medicine-

And froze.

He looked down in disbelief, as if to confirm what his fingers had already told him. The bottle was gone. Will frantically searched his mind, fighting down panic. He was certain he'd had it before they'd left Redmont castle. But after that...

Could it have dropped on the ride back? Could it have fallen out during Will's fight with Halt?

He desperately wracked his memories for answers, only to come to a horrifying conclusion: he must've dropped it on their way back.

Meaning, Will had no idea where it was.

* * *

At first, Halt wasn't sure what had woken him. The Ranger didn't open his eyes, just listened; when only one sense is being used, it can often increase in strength. He was rewarded when, barely two seconds later, another sound happened, except this time Halt knew what it was. Someone had just shut the front door.

Who? Halt could think of no reason Will would be up at such an ungodly hour, so there was only one option left: an enemy had somehow broken in. But how? Halt deadlocked both doors every night. In order to get in, they would have had to break the door down. And Halt knew there was no way he wouldn't have woken up from that.

Climbing silently out of bed, Halt strapped his double knives to his waist and opened the door to his bedroom. His longbow was in the main room, as was his quiver, so he'd have to make do with his knives. On his way to the main room, he passed by Will's room and couldn't help but stop for a moment, a new suspicion rising.

The door was open. When he peeked in, the bed was empty, covers thrown haphazardly to one side. Will was gone. Meaning there was no enemy. And then Halt knew what had woken him up; Will must've unlatched the door. The click of the latch was one Halt had trained himself to instantly wake for. But why would Will go outside in the middle of the night? It didn't make sense.

Halt strode to the door and opened it, silently stepping through and shutting it behind him. His eyes fell to the ground, picking up Will's tracks easily. They were muddled and hurried- as if Will was in distress. Halt frowned. Why hadn't Will said anything to him? Surely he knew that Halt didn't care about being woken up if Will was in pain.

Halt hadn't gotten far when the sound of hooves reached his ears. Instinctively, he faded into the shadows, watching as Tug, Will on his back, walked past him. The horse was stealthy, as all Ranger horses had to be, but Halt knew that even quiet hoofbeats would've forced him awake. More and more, it seemed as though Will really hadn't thought his plan through. Although that wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence, this spoke of desperation. And Halt definitely didn't like that.

The grim-faced Ranger pursed his lips as the two passed by him. It was likely that, once they'd gotten what Will judged to be a safe distance away, Halt's apprentice would increase Tug's pace to faster than Halt could keep up with on foot. However, Halt knew he didn't have the time to saddle Abelard, which meant he'd have to ride bareback; hardly a favorite of Halt's.

Grimacing, Halt turned and went into the stable, coming face to face with an agitated Abelard. "You, too?" Halt asked softly. He murmured a soft reassurance in Gallic and swung onto the small horse's back, urging him into a walk to match Will's pace. Riding without any kind of bridle or saddle was strange and not something Halt wanted to repeat anytime soon, but Abelard was smart, knowing exactly what his master wanted without any guidance at all. In a matter of seconds, they were trailing behind Will, using the darkness to their advantage in case Will should become suspicious and glance over his shoulder.

Will kept on, increasing first to a trot, then to a canter once he'd apparently judged himself far enough away from the supposedly sleeping Halt. Said Ranger's brow furrowed once he realized what they were doing; they were going along the very same path they'd just taken several hours earlier. What was Will doing going back to Redmont? For a moment, Halt wondered if he'd somehow arranged some kind of midnight rendezvous with Alyss, before discarding the thought. Halt had saved talking to Lady Pauline last, and she'd made no mention of seeing Will. Since he'd, er, talked for a rather long while with the diplomat, there was no way Will could've snuck past them to see Alyss in the first place.

Which still begged the question: what was Will doing?

As the moon rose, shedding beams of pale light onto the pathway, Halt became aware that Will was looking down at the ground as if he were tracking something. Even more confused than before, Halt had no choice but to trail behind. He'd apprehend Will when the boy either got himself into trouble or turned back. Halt wanted to know what his apprentice was up to, and after Will had lied- a lie of omission, but still a lie- to Halt for so long, the Ranger honestly wasn't sure if he could believe anything the boy said anymore.

Last time, it'd taken a near-suicide attempt for Halt to uncover the truth. What would it take this time?

Finally, Will stopped and dismounted. He knelt on the ground and his shoulders sagged in what looked very much like relief. When he stood up, he had something in his grasp- a bottle. Halt narrowed his eyes. What was in that bottle that Will had found important enough to do all this for? Alcohol? Medicine?

Will remounted Tug and turned his horse around. Lips pressing into a thin line, Halt moved Abelard directly onto the path and pushed his hood back, exposing his face to the cold moonlight.

"Would you mind," he started slowly, making sure his tone was low and threatening, "telling me what in Gorlog's beard is in that bottle?"

* * *

 **A/N:** honestly, this whole chapter is kinda sucky, but we're all gonna have to make do I suppose lol.

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have left reviews. I'm not the kind of person to respond inside my own fics or to respond via PM to a review unless I think there's something more to be said than just a simple thanks for reading, but I do read every one of them and I'm thankful for all of them. I don't want any of you to think that, just because I didn't respond, I didn't think it was worth responding to or anything- I just don't know what to say usually. But again, thank you all, everybody that's left reviews, and I hope you continue to do so in the future, as well.

Cheers!


	16. Chapter 16

Will froze mid-motion. "H-Halt," he stammered, "I-I didn't realize you were-"

"Obviously not," the Ranger said icily. "If you had, I reckon you never would've picked that bottle up in the first place." Will shifted uncomfortably, eyes anywhere but on his mentor. "Am I wrong?"

"...No."

"Now, what is in that bottle?" Halt's tone brokered no room for argument. Will ducked his head and mumbled something so quietly Halt could barely hear a sound, let alone begin to interpret it. Anger rising, Halt snapped, "loud enough that I can hear you."

"Sleeping medicine."

Just as quickly as the anger had come, it went, and relief swept through Halt. Deep in the recesses of his mind, the grizzled Ranger had wondered if and dreaded that the bottle contained warmweed. Halt knew how addictions went, and the mere thought that Will could've been about to do it to himself again...

"Let me see."

Will nudged Tug into a walk, handing the offending bottle to Halt with hands shaking so much they almost dropped it. Ignoring that for a moment, Halt opened the bottle and sniffed. "Valerian and lemon balm," he decided. "I'd have added lavender oil to help relax, but that should do fine." He screwed the lid back on and handed it back to Will, whose hands were still shaking violently.

"Are you...scared?" Halt asked slowly. He couldn't imagine why Will would be this terrified about riding out in the middle of the night. Yes, Halt wasn't too pleased, both because of the secrecy and the sheer recklessness of going outside at nighttime without making the proper precautions, but he would never hurt Will beyond a simple punishment for his stupidity.

Will shook his head wordlessly. After a few seconds, he mumbled, "'M cold."

"Cold?" Halt stared at him in disbelief. Sure, it was a little chilly, but nowhere near what could be called 'cold.' "It's not even fall yet!"

Will shrugged, apparently not wishing to elaborate further. Growing impatient, Halt decided to switch tacks. "Enough of that. Why did you get sleeping medicine? Better yet, why do you need it so badly as to sneak out in the _middle of the night_ to pick it up?"

Again, the apprentice shook his head, biting his lip. In the moonlight his eyes looked glassy, his face unnaturally pale, but Halt was past the point of caring. _"Will."_

"Y-You'll think l-less of me."

The Ranger crossed his arms. "You said the same thing about the warmweed."

"...c-can we go back?" Halt glanced sharply at the boy but Will continued, gaze firmly fixed on Tug's neck, "I will tell you. I swear I will. I just...don't feel safe saying why out here."

Halt sighed. It _was_ Will's secret, after all. The apprentice had kept it one for a reason and as close-mouthed as Halt was on a regular basis, he understood the want to be as safe and secure as possible when forced to say something undesirable. "Don't try to get out of this."

"I won't," Will said meekly.

The two rode back in dead silence. That same silence stayed as they pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted them, as they led them to the stables and tended to them, as they slowly walked back into the cabin.

Will sank into a chair, still shaking. Like he had back in Castle Araluen, Halt picked up a few blankets and gently arranged them around his apprentice before taking a seat himself, waiting for Will to break the silence.

"I have nightmares," he said suddenly, biting his lip. "I- I dream that I'm still addicted to warmweed. I'm cold and numb and helpless, so helpless as I see E- Cassandra die in front of me." He ducked his head. "As I see _you_ die. Because I was too _weak_ to save you."

"Will," Halt started softly, but his apprentice wasn't done yet.

"And- and every single time, the warmweed...it's not forced on me." Will finally lifted his head, revealing bloodshot, tormented eyes. "I take it of my own free will. In the dream, I _want_ to take it."

"Will, tell me, where'd you get the sleeping medicine from?"

Thrown off by the abrupt change in topic, Will answered slowly, "Castle Redmont infirmary."

Halt nodded. "Thought so. And did you, by any chance, happen to spot a bottle that said something along the lines of 'warmweed poultice?'"

Will stiffened. "Yes."

"And were you at all tempted to drug yourself with it?"

The boy shook his head vehemently. "No, Halt! Never," he declared. "I never want to see that drug again in my life."

Halt spread out his hands in a _there you have it_ gesture. "If you can't even bear the sight of it," he said reasonably, "I doubt you'll be able to force yourself to take it. Will, you need to remember that that's all these dreams are- they're just dreams. They don't reflect who you are or what you might do in real life. You've already said you'll never willingly take drugs, so why believe any of the rest of it?"

"I-I guess," Will mumbled. "But I still...I still don't want to go through that. So," he halfheartedly held up the bottle, "sleeping medicine it is." Suddenly seized with a thought, he hastily added, "unless, of course, you d-don't want me to have it..."

Halt waved a hand dismissively, noting Will's relieved slump of the shoulders. "I don't really care one way or another about the sleeping medicine. What I do care about, though..." Halt closed his eyes, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "What I do care about is the fact you didn't tell me. What you did tonight was stupid and reckless, and I want no repeats of such a thing. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Halt."

Will looked so despondent, Halt hesitated. "Will..." His voice was quieter now, and he couldn't entirely prevent the slightest shake. "Why didn't you tell me? Why do I always have to force it out of you now? Do you not trust me?"

"No, of course not! I trust you with my life," Will said solemnly. "But...well, I can't help but feel like, ah, I'm a burden?" As Halt's expression rapidly darkened, Will hastened on even though he had a bad feeling he was digging his own grave. "You're always cleaning up my messes, Halt. In Skandia, you rescued Cassandra even though I should've been strong enough to do it myself. Then you saved my life in the battle, and you saved it again when you and Gilan stopped me from jumping. And that's not even mentioning when you risked getting killed or banished for life just so you could find me! I just...I hate feeling like I'm a...a burden on your shoulders. You have enough to do already without me being stupid."

"William." For the first time in his life, Will was suddenly very glad he had no last name for Halt to tell him off with. "You are my apprentice. I knew what I was signing up for when I told Arald I'd mentor you. It's your job to do foolish, reckless things, just as it's my job to clean them up and make sure you come out safe. I don't regret a single thing I've ever done regarding any of that, except that I didn't do enough. You are my apprentice," Halt repeated, "and you are not a burden."

Will smiled. Halt had never before told Will of how much he cared for his apprentice. It had always been there, of course, a quiet, unspoken feeling, but it had never been put to words. And somewhere deep, deep down, Will thought of how differently Halt seemed to view an apprentice compared to the rest of the Craftmasters. Almost...almost as if, to Halt, an apprentice was something more than just a student or even a protegee. Or, perhaps more accurately, as if to Halt, _Will_ was more than just a student or a protegee.

And in light of Halt's confession Will suddenly felt like Halt deserved to know something more. "H-Halt," he started. "You were wondering why I was shaking, right?" When his mentor's head dipped, Will grimaced. "Okay, well, um..." For a fleeting second, he thought about asking _please don't get mad at me,_ but Will had brought this on himself by not telling Halt in the first place. "I...well...I guess I'll show you."

He threw off the blankets and reached for his shirt, preparing to pull it up. Halt's eyebrows flew upwards and Will flushed. "It's not like that!" Taking a deep breath he lifted the shirt up, exposing the gaunt, pale skin and defined ridges of his torso in the pale candlelight.

Halt just stared at his chest uncomprehendingly for a second. Then his gaze hardened, softened, hardened, then softened again. "They starved you in Skandia. And I haven't been feeding you enough, either." A sigh. "Will, this is getting ridiculous. How many more things are you going to hide from me?"

There was one final thing; the whip scars laced across Will's back. He briefly weighed the pros and cons: Halt possibly getting angrier, or Halt finding out later and _definitely_ getting angry. _But,_ he reasoned, _if I just hide it long enough, Halt won't get as mad._ Besides, it wasn't like the scars actually affected his health or anything. As harsh as it seemed, Halt didn't honestly have a right to see Will's scars, seeing as they were fully healed over and had no chance of becoming infected. The only reason Will felt that Halt had gotten so angry was because Will's health had been affected by his secrets.

"I thought I was handling it," Will muttered.

Halt gave an incredulous scoff. "You thought you were handling it?" he repeated, still incredulous. "Will, you're skin and bone! You're shaking from cold that's not even there, trembling constantly. I bet that's why your concentration has been so awful lately, as well." Will made a sound of protest, but Halt was already standing up and stalking to the kitchen. "You're eating three square meals a day from now on," he declared decidedly, searching through the cabinets for something light and easy to eat. "I'll stop by Castle Redmont tomorrow to get some decent vegetables."

Will just nodded. He had absolutely no objections there. Then Halt looked back. "And you'll do no training until you've put some meat on your bones."

Will stared at Halt, horrified. "But Halt-"

"That's final. I won't have you working yourself to death. You obviously haven't recovered fully yet, so until you have you're on sick leave."

"But the Gathering-"

"Can wait." Halt found some dried meat and walked back over to Will. "Eat."

Will gave his mentor his best pleading look. Unsurprisingly, it had no effect. "But what am I to do until then?"

Halt gave Will a very innocent look. "The chores."

The next day, Halt let Will sleep in.

He resolved never to let Crowley get wind of it; if he did, Halt would never hear the end of his friend's cackling and pointed taunts about growing old and soft. Halt was, most definitely, _not_ growing soft. The old bit...well, that was something he'd only admit to inside the comfort of his own head.

Halt was _not_ growing soft. His apprentice had had an awful year, and Halt decided the boy deserved to sleep in. At least until eight. After all, it was Will's birthday. Halt supposed that could be his birthday present. It wasn't every day your apprentice turned seventeen, after all.

Halt padded to Will's room and peeked in, watching Will's quiet breathing. Gilan had been ecstatic about turning seventeen, like he had about every other birthday Halt could remember being involved with. Will, on the other hand...Will just seemed uncaring. Quiet, resigned, and uncaring. It made Halt wonder what the boy would've been like if he'd never gone to Skandia, if Halt hadn't made him go to Celtica, if Halt had been just a little faster...

But no. Halt shook his head and stepped away from the bedroom. He'd allowed himself to drown in guilt and the thoughts of what could've happened for too long already. It didn't matter what Halt could've done if he'd been faster, if he'd not taken those extra ten minutes to eat breakfast that morning. What mattered was that it had happened and no matter how much he wished it would change, it wouldn't.

Will had been enslaved, starved, drugged, and beaten. He had endured a year under conditions that should've broken his spirit, his body, and his life. As much as Halt hated having to see his apprentice like this, it was a fact. Will was different. He might never be that cheerful, mischievous boy he had been. But it was Halt's job to help Will now. After all Halt's mistakes, the boy deserved nothing less.

And so he strode into his bedroom and picked up a quill and parchment.

 _Crowley,_ he started, _before you start laughing at the fact that I'm actually writing a letter to you of my own accord, just listen. I need your help. I want everything you have relating to warmweed, drug addictions, nightmares, malnutrition, and depression. Yes, that includes you. I expect you here in less than a week, but if something comes up, two weeks will do. You also might want to send a Ranger over to Meric fief to cover for a certain sword-wielding, gangly mess._

 _Arratay_

Back when they'd first started the Corps, the two had established that all emergency missives were to be signed with a special code-word, in order to know it was really that Ranger and that it was important. Crowley, for whatever reason, had chosen Richard- said it reminded him of Pritchard or something equally idiotic. Halt would tease Crowley about his attachment to their long-dead mentor, except that Halt felt the same way. He simply, in a very Halt like action, never expressed that attachment in any way.

Over the years as the Corps had begun to grow again, first the senior Rangers then all of them were given code-names. Several of the Rangers had simply chosen their horse's names. Some, like Halt, translated their name or a word that had to do with something in the Corps into another language. Gilan, in an over-the-top display that Halt really shouldn't have been surprised at, wrote Halt a note the day after his graduation and signed it, 'Ranger Danger.' Halt had been dubious to say the least at how much Gilan would still like it after a few years, but he still seemed completely fine with it.

Speaking of Gilan...

Halt grabbed another sheet of parchment.

 _Assistance needed. Crowley will provide replacement Ranger. Come as soon as you're able._

 _Arratay_

Although Halt hated how much of a disturbance he'd have to create- Crowley would have to send a Ranger all the way to Meric fief, plus find a substitute for Castle Araluen while he was gone- Halt knew it was necessary. If he hadn't been absolutely certain that Will needed more help than Halt was equipped to give him, he never would've bothered writing the letters.

He sealed them, stamping them with the oakleaf crest every Ranger kept in his writing box. He'd have to go to find a courier that afternoon while Will and his wardmates were together.

Halt stood and walked back to the front room, sending a quick glance out the window to check the time. Seeing that it was around 7:30, he figured he'd let Will sleep for long enough and went into the boy's room, shaking his shoulder.

"Wake up, Will."

Without waiting to see if his apprentice had indeed woken up or not, Halt walked back out to the front room where he had breakfast cooking. As he cooked, he kicked himself for not connecting the dots himself sooner; both Will and Cassandra had mentioned the awful conditions more than once. Neither had implicitly said they'd been starved, but Halt knew they had talked about the lack of food. Of course Will would be starved! Why had Will had to tell Halt himself?

Halt was almost angrier at himself than Will. Almost. After all, Will was the one who'd thought he was 'dealing with it' and 'doing just fine.' Did the boy never learn?

He huffed to himself and turned the meat over. Will's soft footsteps padded across the floor and stopped right behind Halt.

"Yes?" the Ranger asked without looking back.

"My friends can still come over today, right?"

"Why would you think they couldn't?" Halt asked, puzzled. He pulled open a cupboard door and frowned; he'd been hoping they still had bread. That was another thing to add to his list of things to get, he supposed.

"You said I couldn't do training..."

"I also said you'd be doing chores instead," Halt pointed out. "Not that friends should be compared with chores, though. One can be a little more enjoyable."

Will didn't say anything, but Halt assumed he'd nodded. He stepped up next to Halt and grabbed their utensils to set the table, then stood by the table a little awkwardly as he waited for the food to finish. Halt didn't attempt to break the silence.

Once they sat down to eat, Halt pretended not to be watching Will. As it was, he'd silently decided that Will would not be allowed up from the table unless he'd eaten everything on his plate. Even if Will said he was full, he wouldn't be allowed up. Since Will had spent a month with the rich foods of Castle Araluen, Halt saw no need to be wary of Will vomiting up his food if he ate too much too quickly; if he were going to vomit, he would've already done it a month ago. Now they were past the point of that, but Will had lost an easy twenty pounds even with the month of feasting- and he hadn't been the slightest bit overweight to begin with. Some of the weight was due to Will losing muscle through lack of exercise, but more was from his body's self-destruction from lack of nutrition. _Emaciated_ was one very fitting word for what Will was right then.

Again, Halt had to fight away a stab of guilt. After all, it had been he who'd told Will not to have lunch. It'd been he who hadn't noticed his apprentice was slowly turning into a skeleton. It seemed that every time Halt was close to being able to push past his previous mistakes, he made another one. He hadn't even managed to forgive himself for Will's slavery in the first place; how was he supposed to be able to forgive himself for this?

 _I don't have to forgive myself,_ he decided, eyes flicking towards his apprentice. _I just need to protect Will._

"Will!" Setting down the large, heavy baskets she was carrying, Jenny ran straight for Will and hugged him tightly. Will hugged her back, a little surprised at the sudden display of affection but accepting it anyway. When Jenny finally pulled away, her eyes were gleaming with unshed tears. "It's been so long...I didn't know if I'd ever see you again." After a moment of silence, Jenny smiled a little abashedly and went back for the baskets, which Will saw were heavy-laden with food. Behind her came George, dressed in Scribeschool robes and with a huge grin on his face, then Alyss, as graceful and elegant as ever, smiling softly.

Will greeted them a little awkwardly. He hadn't spoken to any of them in over a year and a half. Instead of the fifteen-year-olds they had been, they were seventeen- with the exception of George, who wouldn't be until the next month. Will felt even older than that. He'd gone through more than most thirty-year-olds had, and he felt tired and worn after everything he'd been through. But it wasn't in Will's nature to sulk about when there were others around him, so he grinned and helped Jenny set out the food, asked about everyone's life, inquired how each apprentice's Craftmaster was doing. They, in turn, asked him how Halt was doing.

"He's doing well, I suppose," Will said after a moment. "Well, I mean...he's Halt." He looked from one face to the next as though that should explain everything. Alyss nodded as though it did indeed, but the other two just looked confused. Trying to explain, Will stammered, "I mean, he's...he's not _injured_ or anything, or any grumpier than usual-" Alyss raised an eyebrow and he flushed- "so I think he's, you know, just fine."

"You couldn't have just said that?" Jenny inquired, but she was smiling. Will ducked his head, grinning and blushing at the same time. Then he sobered and swallowed a bite of pie.

"So how has everything been in the last..." Will hesitated. It felt strange to think of how long it had really been since the wardmates had actually talked; in the course of their apprenticeships, they had only rarely seen each other. Will's wardmates had probably found much better and longer-lasting friends during the last months- after all, Rangers were the only caste whose apprentices were trained alone- and Will suddenly felt like he was intruding.

"It's been busy," Alyss said softly, covering Will's awkward silence with an easy grace. "When the war was going on, the diplomats had quite a lot of things to do. It's calmed down somewhat, but we still have much to do."

"We were filled up to the roof with paperwork," George complained in his own turn. "Everywhere you looked there was an affidavit here and a litigation case there. Master Nigel was beside himself. Even started giving more complicated cases to us second years." He grinned. "As you can probably ascertain, that did not go so well."

Jenny grinned. "Well, work in the kitchens has been same old, same old. Master Chubb sent me to the healer's ward sometimes, though, when they needed more helping hands. That was fun."

"What's that I hear?" Will cupped his ear theatrically. "Are you sure you have the right Craftmaster?"

Jenny playfully swatted him. "Oh, shut up. Yes, I'm sure."

"Now that we have related to you our own narrative," George said grandly, waving a hand for emphasis, "Wouldst thou do us the great honor of repaying that great favor?"

Despite how over-the-top the display was, Will still shrank a little. The last thing he wanted to do was tell them what had happened. "Um, n-no, I'd rather not," he said shakily, then added, "after all, it was, um, not very eventful."

"Not very eventful!" Jenny exploded, hands on her hips despite the fact she was sitting cross-legged on the ground. "You were in _Skandia_ for-"

"Yes, yes, I know that," Will said testily, "I did live through it, after all. I know quite well what happened, thank you." Taken aback, the younger apprentice blinked at him. Will sighed, instantly regretting his outburst. "Sorry, Jenny. I'd just...rather not talk about it. I'm sure you've heard about it already, anyway. All about the apprentice of the great eight-foot-tall, firebreathing Halt, the apprentice who, apparently, planned an entire war out _and_ saved the Princess without any help." Will shook his head. His laugh came out a trifle more bitter than he'd intended. "It's like the Kalkara thing. Everything's getting blown out of proportion."

"That doesn't mean you didn't still do something good, Will," Alyss said gently. "People will talk no matter what you do. But we're your friends. We understand if you don't want to tell us, but we won't judge you for anything that's happened." She looked straight into his eyes and Will fleetingly wondered if she already knew; if Halt, perhaps, had told her about the warmweed.

"Your story's safe with us," Jenny added. "We won't tell anyone else."

Will looked around from Alyss to George to Jenny and sagged in defeat. He wouldn't tell them everything; no, he wouldn't tell them about the warmweed, or about the beatings or any of the details of his slavery. The day was warm and beautiful and such things did not need to be said. But he would at least tell them about Celtica, about Skorghijl, about Cassandra, about the war with the Temujai. They deserved that much. They were his friends.

"Alright," he said. "It all started when Halt's former apprentice, Gilan, showed up out of the blue..."

* * *

 **A/N:** Timeline clarification: I'm just going to be blunt here and state that I have absolutely no idea what time the Gathering usually is, or when Will's birthday is, or when he left for Celtica or Skandia or, honestly, any of the events in Flanagan's timeline. The RA series is probably the most vague series I've ever read in terms of timeline. So, for all intents and purposes...

I'm going to say that the Ranger Gathering is in January. Because of Will, it's now been moved up to March for this one year.  
Will left for Celtica around a year into his apprenticeship (his second year, technically), which puts him at leaving around June, depending on when his apprenticeship started. Since Will was in Skandia for somewhere around a year (I don't think it's ever explicitly stated how long it took before Halt got himself exiled), that'd put the return to Araluen somewhere around...let's say, June or July.

Since they stayed in Castle Araluen for a month, that's around August. Halt and Will have been back for several weeks, which makes that somewhere around the end of August/mid September.

It's stated that Will was fifteen on Choosing Day. Now, I don't think the exact date of Choosing Day is ever stated, either, but I'm going to say it was probably around September. Since Will was specifically said to not be sixteen yet in the Burning Bridge, Will's birthday is probably very close to Choosing Day (it's possible that that's mentioned outright in the Ruins of Gorlan, but I don't recall reading it), which means probably in September.

So, since Ruins of Gorlan had Will's first year assessment, that meant that about half a year after Burning Bridge, Will's second year assessment would be coming up. Since he spends a year in Skandia, now that he's back, his third year assessment is coming up.

EDIT: I looked up when the harvest is generally brought in in Britain and it's around the third week of September. Since the harvest festival in the Ruins of Gorlan is three months after Choosing Day, that invalidates my entire timeline. However, since I've already written my whole fic around Thanksgiving being Harvest Day- seeing as it's around three months after the beginning of September- I'm not going to change it now. Just pretend that this fic conforms to American practices instead of British ones, lol.


End file.
